A Saving People Thing
by Aeshan
Summary: Sirius has died at the Department of Mysteries. When a grieving Harry moves in with Tonks and Lupin for the summer, he finds new battles to fight and another person to save. Violence, sex, Lupin bashing. Lots more warnings inside. Harry/Tonks. Chap 10 up.
1. A Departure, an Arrival, a Departure

_A/N: Background is canon through OotP. At the opening of this story, we veer into AU starting when Dumbledore removes Harry from the Dursleys' residence at the beginning of HBP._

_Warnings: This is a long warning, but please take the time to read it, because judging from the response to the first half dozen chapters, there are a lot of different things in this fic that bother people, not just a few. At some point you're likely to be disturbed by a scene, get angry at a character's actions, or possibly get angry with me. Take a moment to think about this before you decide to read the story. I don't want to give away the plot, so I need to be somewhat vague. Try to read between the lines.  
_

_Implied violence, violence, descriptions of the effects of torture, mild gore, abuse, abuse enablement, implied non-consensual sex, sex, and (as implied by the preceding) unabashed melodrama.__ Some chapters are heavy on dialogue: Yeah, just talking. People that you like will do or say things that you think they shouldn't, although I do my best to keep everyone in character. __ If you're a fan of Remus Lupin, you may to wish to skip this as his character takes a bashing. If you want a story where Harry develops super magical powers or behaves like someone twice his age, look elsewhere; shouldn't be difficult to find one. If you are not an adult, don't read this. Tonks is a confused person who may give Harry a hard time; if you think Harry deserves a better girlfriend, don't read this. Otherwise, give it a try, and if you don't like it, don't say I didn't warn you. ;)  
_

_Although this fic is labeled Drama and Romance, it also contains Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Action/Adventure, and even some occasional mild Humor._

* * *

**A "Saving People" Thing**  
**  
Chapter 1. A Departure, an Arrival, a Departure  
**  
"... sure you'll find that Remus and Nymphadora are only too happy to put you up until school starts in September, Harry."

"Er. Right, sir. But I still don't understand--" Harry broke off as Dumbledore increased their pace, the Headmaster's long strides leading them rapidly down Privet Drive and away from the detested Dursleys.

Typically, Dumbledore had offered next to no explanation for where he was taking Harry when he had shown up unannounced at the Dursley's doorstep ten minutes ago. He'd simply informed Harry, and the Dursleys, that it was time for Harry to depart, and that he would no doubt see them again next summer. His trunk and owl would be taken care of.

After their hasty departure from Number Four, Privet Drive, his Headmaster had offered up two short sentences that indicated that Harry was being placed with Tonks and Lupin for the rest of the summer. The Weasleys, for some unstated reason, being unavailable.

This raised all sorts of questions in Harry's mind: Why the two of them? Why not Shacklebolt? Or Hestia? And, again, why not the Weasleys? Were Ron and the rest of them alright? And the way Dumbledore had said 'Remus and Nymphadora' was strange. Were they _together? _ As in, living somewhere together? Or was it simply that Lupin had nowhere to go now that the Order were blocked from Grimmauld Place?

If the two of them were a couple, it was certainly an odd one. It was hard for Harry to picture the lively, colorful Tonks dating--or living with--someone like Lupin: poor, grey-haired, perpetually serious. _There must be another explanation, _he thought. _Which Dumbledore will get to, as he always says, when there's more time._

They walked for another minute along the hot pavement, until they came to the alley where Harry had fought off the Dementors last summer. Dumbledore contemplated the dark entrance and then said, "Well, Harry. This will have to do."

He gestured for Harry to precede him into the alleyway. Ignoring the brief flare of apprehension that he always felt near this place, Harry obeyed, and Dumbledore followed. Harry looked around in the gloom for a moment, trying not to picture Dementors swooping down on him and Dudley.

The old man broke into his thoughts by saying kindly, "You undoubtedly have many questions, Harry, but there's no time. I'll explain everything later. For now, let's concentrate on getting you safely away. As you are not yet of age to Apparate, I'll take you by Side-Along. Hold tight, now."

Dumbledore grasped Harry's arms firmly and twirled the two of them in place. After a brief period of unpleasant dizziness, at least for Harry, they materialized in another alleyway, distinguishable from the first only because it was darker and even more smelly than the one off Privet Drive.

He shook his head to clear it and then followed the Headmaster, who was already walking briskly out of the alley and into what he recognized as a busy street somewhere in the heart of London. Buses, cars, and crowds of people streamed past. Most of the pedestrians looked overheated and distinctly irritable on this sweltering July day.

Dumbledore let the way to a large block of flats, speaking as they walked. "Circumstances with the Weasleys, which we shall discuss another time, make it impossible for them to play host to you this summer, Harry. Nymphadora is a skilled Auror and thus will offer you excellent protection, as will your former professor, Remus Lupin, I feel sure. In addition, her residence is convenient to Diagon Alley, an advantage that you will no doubt appreciate."

Nodding to the porter at the entrance to the flats, who seemed to recognize him, Dumbledore led Harry up several flights of stairs, still talking. "The decision was, of necessity, reached quickly. I had time to discuss it only with Nymphadora. Remus was occupied with Order business elsewhere at the time. However, as she owns the flat and was more than willing to-- Ah!" He broke off. "Here we are."

They stood in front of an brown door, one of four on this landing and anonymous except for a blindingly bright orange number 11 at eye level. Dumbledore lifted his hand to knock, but paused as raised voices filtered through the door.

"... without asking. I like--"

"I _told_ you, he's got no--"

"--my privacy. Need it, in fact, and you--"

"Stop, Remus. _Please._" Tonks's voice sounded distressed, almost as if she were in pain. "What was I supposed to--"

"--didn't even bother to consult--"

"--do_? Say no?_ The poor kid needs someone who--"

Harry felt his face grow hot. Obviously, whatever Professor Dumbledore thought to the contrary, he was far from welcome at Tonks's flat. Dumbledore, his mouth tightening into a thin line, rapped smartly on the door.

The voices inside broke off. There was the sound of light footsteps pattering towards the door before it was flung open wide. Tonks's slim form, topped by turquoise hair pulled back in a ponytail, stood framed in the doorway. With that hairstyle, she looked younger than Harry remembered and somehow more delicate. Her face was tense and white, but as soon as she recognized the two visitors, she broke into a genuine smile.

Despite her welcoming expression, Harry noticed that her eyes still had a strained look and appeared to be slightly puffy. He wondered uneasily if she'd been crying.

Before her visitors could say anything, Tonks said gaily, "Wotcher, Professor! And blimey, Harry, I've been waiting for you all day. Tidied the flat and everything, and believe me when I say that took some doing." She stood back from the door and gestured, "Don't just stand about. Come in, come in!"

Behind her, Remus Lupin stood with his hands pushed deep into his trouser pockets, glowering down at the carpet. When the two of them entered the flat, Lupin appeared to struggle with his feelings for a moment, and then hitched his mouth into a smile of greeting.

He walked forward, and nodded curtly to Dumbledore. Taking a hand from his pocket, he held it out to Harry, saying in a somewhat forced voice, "Good to see you again Harry." As they shook hands, he asked with more sincerity, "How are you coping?"

"Erm. Good." What was there to say, after all? Sirius was dead. He'd lost his godfather through his own stupidity. And he missed his two best friends and was now looking at the prospect of a summer without them. Top it off with the fact that he was being dumped on two people he barely knew, at least one of whom seemed to strongly resent his presence. What was there to say, except, "Yeah... doing good. You?"

"Glad to hear it," Lupin replied, ignoring Harry's question. The civilities, such as they were, dispensed with, he dropped Harry's hand and walked to the bookshelf in the corner, as far away from Harry as he could get. He pulled out a book, seemingly at random, and sat down on the bright red sofa to read.

Dumbledore looked with some concern at Lupin, who ignored him, before turning to Nymphadora. "Thank you for your generous offer, Nymphadora. I'm sure you'll find Harry no trouble at all. His trunk and owl will be arriving later today."

Harry felt a spurt of irritation at being spoken of as if he were five years old. _No trouble at all._ He scowled.

"Oh, my pleasure, Professor," Tonks said cheerfully. She gave Harry another bright smile that somehow reassured him that she didn't think of him as a child. Her eyes darted briefly to Lupin reading in his corner. "It'll take a bit of adjustment all around, but I'm sure we'll manage beautifully. Harry, you seem to grow so much in between times I see you, and I--"

Here she stopped and then darted forward to give Harry a tight, impulsive hug. It took him off guard, but as she continued to hold him, her cheek resting against his shoulder, he put his arms gingerly around her. The bones of her shoulder blades and spine felt sharp and fragile under his palms; it reminded him that she had been hurt quite badly at the battle at the Ministry.

He squeezed her back lightly, the hair from her ponytail tickling his chin, and was about to let go when she whispered in his ear, "You must miss him terribly. I'm so sorry."

Suddenly overcome with emotion, his eyes stung. He blinked rapidly and swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. He nodded, unable to speak. Tonks pulled back then, and Harry saw that her own eyes were bright with unshed tears as well. Some lonely part of him--one he'd scarcely been aware of until now--missed the warmth of her body against his, and he had to resist the urge to draw her back for another hug.

Tonks grinned at him a little tremulously but said with determined optimism, "But he wouldn't have wanted us to mope. We'll have to have a drink some night in his memory, eh, Harry? That's what he would have wanted."

Harry nodded, but privately thought that what Sirius would have wanted most was to be alive. It wouldn't have been kind to say so, however; Tonks had only been trying to make him feel better. And strangely, he did feel a bit better. She was the first person since it happened to just hug him and say how sorry she was.

Tonks looked again at Remus, but she spoke to Harry. "His loss was a blow to all of us. It takes time." She rubbed her hand unconsciously along her forearm, and Harry noticed a series of deep bruises standing out against the pallor of her flesh. Still unhealed from the Ministry?

Before he could ask about them, Dumbledore interrupted by saying, "And now, I must leave you." He turned to Tonks and bowed slightly. "Again, I thank you for your generosity, Nymphadora. And you as well, Remus." Here Dumbledore paused until Lupin looked up from his book and gave a slight nod in acknowledgement. Dumbledore then turned to shake Harry's hand in farewell.

"I'm sure I could not be leaving Harry in more competent and caring hands." He patted Harry's shoulder paternally. "Harry. Until September."

And then, with a cordial wave, the old man Disapparated in a swish of emerald robes and white beard.

There was an awkward silence left in Dumbledore's wake. Harry looked again at the bruises on Tonks's arm and opened his mouth to ask how she was recovering from her battle injuries. Tonks noticed him looking and abruptly moved her arm behind her back. She gave him a look that very clearly said, _Please don't ask_.

She said with forced cheer, "Well, Harry, how about a cuppa while we're waiting for your trunk? Or something cool? Maybe that would go down better. An iced Butterbeer? Pumpkin juice"

Lupin stood and walked over to where the two of them were standing. He moved quite deliberately to interpose his own body between Harry and Tonks, with Tonks behind him and Harry in front of him. At close range Harry noticed that Remus looked more gaunt and tired than he remembered, and just as serious as ever.

Taken by surprise by Lupin's actions, Harry took a step back. For the first time, Lupin smiled a quite genuine smile of satisfaction. He took another step forward to crowd even closer to Harry, forcing Harry to step back again.

And again, Lupin smiled. He said to Tonks without turning around, "No, Dora. I think that Harry will probably want to go to his room now. Possibly a little nap before tea."

Harry opened his mouth to say, _What?_ but instead, he looked at Tonks. Tonks gave him what was unmistakeably a pleading look over Lupin's shoulder. She said, "Yes, I'll show you your room, Harry. It's small, but I cleared out most of my rubbish, and I think--"

"No, Dora," Lupin repeated calmly. He gestured to his left and said, "Your room is through that door, next to our room Harry. We'll see you at tea time."

Harry looked from the door that Lupin was pointing at, to Lupin, whose face was inscrutable, to Tonks. Tonks gave him the tiniest of nods.

He recognized this dismissal for what it was now: a veiled threat. His experience coping with Uncle Vernon's bullying all these years counted for something, and Harry managed to say quite calmly, "Right, then. I'll just... have a lie down for a bit."

He walked to the indicated room, entered, and shut the door with care. When he heard the latch slip and lock behind him, magically, he sat heavily on the bed and wondered what _the hell_ he'd got himself into now.

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	2. Locked Up, Set Free

_A/N: No, no, no. I don't have anything against Remus Lupin. Nothing personal, just for this story. Thank you, reviewers.  
_

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**A "Saving People" Thing**  
**  
Chapter 2. Locked Up, Set Free  
**  
Harry paced the four steps that brought him from one end of his cramped room to the other. Turned. Paced again.

_One, two, three, four.  
_  
Like a Clabbert testing and retesting the confines of his cage, he moved restlessly. And that's just what he felt like, he thought, a sodding zoo animal. Because he was _bloody well locked in_.

_One, two, three, four._

He'd explored the room, but it offered little of interest: a bed covered in an eye-catching neon green quilt that no one but Tonks would ever have purchased; a bedside table; a small chest of drawers; a window that looked onto the grimy brick wall of the building opposite. So he'd sat down on the bed, taken off his trainers, and lay back, trying to relax.

Hadn't worked.

Although he'd appeared outwardly calm when he'd walked to this room--when Lupin had forced him into this room--inside he was seething with the pent-up anger and frustration of being treated like a kid. First Dumbledore, now Lupin. Harry had no idea what had got into Lupin, why he seemed to resent Harry's very existence. But whatever it was, there was no reason to pack Harry off to his bedroom like a misbehaving toddler when he was nearly sixteen. Just so Lupin could fight with his girlfriend in private.

With his _girlfriend_.

Merlin. What a laugh that was. He was practically old enough to be her father. And the way he was acting, Harry didn't think that a girl like Tonks would put up with that kind of behavior for very long. She probably had her pick of blokes. God only knew how Lupin had ended up living here.

Harry was bending his head left and right, trying to work the tension out of his neck, and wondering if he could possibly sleep at this hour, when the voices had started up in the other room. It had sounded much like the argument that he and Dumbledore had interrupted when they'd first arrived, although the voices were quieter now; Harry could no longer make out any of the words, only the argumentative tone.

Thankfully.

Harry had reassured himself they were probably arguing about something else, not about him; it was probably just something that Harry's arrival had got in the way of. From the pitch of their voices, he could tell that at first Tonks was trying to reason with Lupin, to placate him. But it went on and on, and eventually Tonks's tone changed to one of frustration, and gradually, to anger. He couldn't make out Lupin's words, but he sounded cold, emphatic, and completely unmoved by whatever point Tonks was trying to make.

The bickering continued, eventually forming a background noise that Harry was almost able to tune out. He had just about convinced himself that whatever was making Lupin angry had nothing to do with him. His thoughts had drifted away to the image that was never far from his mind, that was always waiting for him, and that tormented him as nothing else ever had: The sight of Sirius falling through the veil.

His godfather's last moments.

Harry was attempting, for the thousandth time, to imagine a scenario where everything turned out differently. Where he had contacted Sirius through the mirror before going to the Ministry. Where they had figured out between the two of them what Voldemort had been planning. Where they had concocted a brilliant plan to trap and capture the Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries and--

Voices rose in pitch. Words floated through the locked door.

"I'm so sick of this attitude. It never ends. And it's mad. You know it is. I--" Tonks sounded thoroughly exasperated.

Something from Remus that Harry couldn't make out and then--

"But _why,_ Remus? He's only a--"

More unintelligible words from Lupin and then his voice rising enough for Harry to make out, "--rubbing up against him like a common tart."

"You're _mental!_ It was just a hug, Remus, a friendly hug!"

Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and then a thump as if something or someone had fallen.

Harry was on his feet in an instant and at the door. He had his hand on the knob before he remembered that he was locked in.

From the other side of the door, he heard Tonks cry out, "I-- No, I-- Please, Remus--" and then a sharp yelp.

Harry rattled the knob uselessly, and then hammered on his door, shouting. "Tonks!? TONKS! Are you alright? Let me out! LUPIN!"

There was complete silence on the other side of the door as Harry continued to pound on the wood with his open palm and call out. Feelings of powerlessness, of rage, welled up inside him until he felt as if he would burst. It was just like with Sirius. Watching him fall. Nothing he could do. Nothing he could--

In desperation, he pulled his wand from his pocket. He couldn't use magic outside of school, but surely now that Voldemort was back, the Ministry wouldn't punish him if he-- And if someone was in danger, and he--

"Harry?" It was Tonks. Her voice, pitched slightly higher than usual, held a slight quaver.

"TONKS!" Harry yelled back. "Are you--? Has he--"

"I'm-- I'm fine, Harry. Look. Just-- Could you let us be for a while? And I'll-- I'll get your tea soon, right?"

What she was saying was so ludicrous that Harry didn't know how to answer. _Get my tea soon?_ _My tea?_ Who wanted fucking _tea_? Had Lupin hurt her? Or had she just tripped over something? But she'd said _Please, Remus._ Didn't that mean Lupin had done something to her?

And... could he have misunderstood that bit of what Lupin had said about him? Could he really be jealous of Harry? The idea boggled the mind. He'd called Tonks a tart, over a hug. How could Lupin possibly believe--? And Tonks was so-- While he, Harry, was only-- And, hadn't Lupin been angry with her, with him, even before the hug?

The thoughts stuttered around in his brain and refused to gel together into anything coherent. This afternoon was turning out to be nightmarishly strange.

"Harry?" Tonks said again.

He took a few deep breaths and then said through the door, "Yeah. Fine." And that's when he'd started to pace.

_One, two, three, four._

That hour he spent in his room was one of the hardest Harry had ever passed, and he'd been locked into his room more probably hundreds of times since he was just a little kid. It had been bad enough having to listen to them argue, especially when it had turned physical, but the part where they were making up--for surely that's what the guttural moans and rhythmic thumping coming through the thin wall indicated?--was, if anything, worse. He stared down at his white-knuckled fists and tried to block out the insistent sounds.

They were doing _it _in the bedroom next to his, and right up against the wall that divided their two rooms by the sound of it.

He could hear everything, from Tonks's gasps and hitching breaths to Lupin's grunts at each thrust, thrusts that slammed someone, probably Tonks, against the wall again and again. He couldn't see how that wouldn't hurt her.

He could picture it as well, although he tried desperately not to, because it was starting to make him sick. Literally sick. He felt so angry he was shaking. Was Lupin making a point, shagging her practically in the room with him, rubbing his nose in it?

What the hell was wrong with the man? Had Lupin lost his mind? He'd always seemed so mild and controlled the times Harry had ever been with him, except for that one time in the Shrieking Shack.

In the Shrieking Shack. When Lupin had come face-to-face with Sirius Black for the first time in twelve years.

Had losing his friend Sirius again, this time forever, somehow unhinged him? The idea would have seemed laughable to Harry a month ago, the suggestion that losing someone could drive you mad, but he felt as if he were halfway there himself.

The suggestive noises from the other room gradually increased in volume and tempo until Harry buried his face in his fists, praying for it to end, and soon. And when it _was_ finally over, when he was left in deafening silence, Harry looked down at his clenched hands and slowly relaxed them. He could see the red crescents where his fingernails had dug into his palms.

A few minutes later, Harry heard the latches on his door click. He was, apparently, free. He couldn't bring himself to come out. Not yet. Instead, he simply stared at the marks on his palms and rubbed them, doing his best to think of nothing at all. Not Lupin. Not Tonks. Not Sirius.

After what might have been half an hour, his door magically swung ajar. The aroma of food came drifting in. It smelled like chicken soup. Lupin called mildly, "Harry, your things have arrived."

Harry pushed himself off the bed and trudged into the sitting room without looking at either Tonks or Lupin. Hedwig, appearing highly pleased with herself, was sitting on the small dining table pecking at a piece of cheese. A miniaturized cage and school trunk were tied to her legs. She ruffled her feathers and hooted in greeting as Harry came close. He scratched at her neck the way she liked for a moment before bending to untie the two parcels.

When he had freed them, Harry placed the tiny cage and trunk on the floor, realizing belatedly that he would be unable enlarge them himself without magic. He glanced at Tonks, who was behind the counter that served to divide the living area from her tiny kitchen. She was fixing sandwiches, slicing cheese and tomatoes and bread with a sort of exaggerated care and was resolutely not looking at Harry. He noticed that her hair was short now, spiky, in a sort of fiery mixture of red and orange.

He transferred his gaze to Lupin, who was sitting on the sofa reading the Daily Prophet. Lupin must have felt Harry's eyes on him, because he looked up, set aside the paper, and came over. Taking out his wand, Lupin knelt and tapped both of the items, muttering an _Engorgio_ charm under his breath.

"There you are, Harry."

"Thanks... Professor Lupin," Harry said, somewhat grudgingly.

"You're welcome. And it's Remus, Harry. I'm not your professor anymore. Shall I levitate them to your room?" Lupin offered. He seemed completely at ease.

"No."

Lupin shrugged. "Suit yourself," he replied coolly and then strolled into the kitchenette to stand behind Tonks, who was now putting the sandwiches together. When he raised his hands to lay them on her shoulders, she flinched slightly at his touch, and then relaxed and smiled up at him. She still hadn't looked at Harry.

As Harry dragged the trunk and cage to his new room, he heard Lupin ask her gently, "What can I do to help?"

By the time he came back out, Tonks and Lupin were laying out the meal, with places set at three sides of the little table. Tonks gave him a quick smile and then flushed deeply. Harry managed to return the smile without showing too much embarrassment himself. He didn't want to make her more uncomfortable than she already was.

She said, "Hope you like soup and sandwiches, Harry, because aside from reheating I'm not much on cookery spells--"

"No, it's-- it's great. Thanks."

"Well, good, cos it'll be this or take-away while you're here, I'm afraid." She gave a slightly nervous laugh. "Sit down. I'll just get the Butterbeers."

Harry moved to sit at the middle place setting, between Lupin and Tonks, but Lupin interposed. "No, Harry. That's your place." He nodded to the seat on the end, near the window, and then sat in the middle spot himself, leaving the end farthest from Harry for Tonks.

When Tonks returned with the drinks, the three of them began to eat. Tonks kept up most of the conversation, gossiping cheerfully about some of the other Order members, telling a funny story about Mad-Eye jinxing a Muggle drinking fountain, and chattering about her work, which normally Harry would have had a million questions about.

He wondered if she'd laugh at the idea of him wanting to become an Auror. Somehow, he thought not; she'd understand the impulse.

Harry and Lupin both put in only a word here or there, Lupin most likely because of natural taciturnity, and Harry because of the anger still bubbling in the pit of his stomach from what he'd overheard between the two of them. If Tonks was bothered with Harry's quietness, she seemed intent on not showing it. She didn't appear to have any trouble carrying the conversation almost single-handedly.

Maybe it was a case of opposites attracting, because Lupin had never been the world's chattiest bloke.

Harry looked at Lupin's placid face as he chewed his sandwich. He looked at Tonks as she giggled over some story she was telling with determined lightness, flushing slightly whenever she caught Harry's eye and then darting quick, almost nervous glances at Lupin.

Harry gripped his napkin as he was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to pick up his Butterbeer bottle and knock Lupin over the head with it. He'd felt the same way about Uncle Vernon more times than he could count after being knocked around by him for any reason from burning the bacon to having his hair stick up the wrong way.

Harry wouldn't have thought it, but it turned out that feeling was even more intense when it was someone else getting the knocks.

Somehow, Harry had generally managed to carry on and eat meals with the Dursleys as if nothing were wrong, to ask Uncle Vernon to please pass the peas, or whatever. The trick was to _carry on_, not let them get to you. That's what Tonks was doing as well, he realized.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Lupin was eyeing Harry's spoon, which was paused halfway between his bowl and his mouth. Harry put the spoon down.

"Could you pass the salt, please, Professor Lupin?"

* * *


	3. Birthday Surprises

_A/N: Not British. No beta reader. Ergo: Lots of mistakes. Tell me if you spot 'em, plz. And hey, to you anonymous reviewers that I haven't had a chance to thank: Thanks!_

_A slightly longer chapter this time, but lightweight in terms of drama and action. I'm setting up for more of all in the next couple of chapters._

* * *

**  
A "Saving People" Thing**  
**  
Chapter 3. Birthday Surprises**  
_  
_Harry, Tonks, and Lupin gradually fell into a routine which, while it couldn't have been called comfortable, seemed to work for all of them.

Tonks rose early to go to work and was generally gone long before either Lupin or Harry was up and about. She returned at supper time, usually bearing take-away pizza, fish-and-chips, or a curry.

Harry, never a morning person, would have loved to indulge in a lie in every day as it was something the Dursleys had never permitted him. However, for reasons that he wasn't entirely clear on, Harry preferred to be showered and breakfasted before Lupin was up, and he generally managed this.

Most mornings, Lupin went out on Order business, of which he spoke little except to say that it was nothing to concern Harry--meetings with various contacts Dumbledore had in the Ministry to determine the extent of Voldemort's government infiltration, if any. Occasionally Lupin would escort Harry to Diagon Alley, where Lupin spent his time demonstrating constant vigilance to an irritating degree, as if he expected Harry to be kidnapped at any moment. When Harry complained, Lupin replied curtly that Dumbledore had specifically required him to be guarded, which neatly closed off any discussion on the matter.

On one such trip, Harry had managed to buy most of his supplies and books for the coming year; on other trips, he'd stocked up on treats at the Owl Emporium for Hedwig, or bought sweets, or visited the Weasley twins new joke shop. It would have been fun, if he'd had anyone to do it with. At the Weasley's shop, at least, he'd been able to get news about Ron and the others. As it turned out, Charlie had been badly injured by a dragon, and both Molly and Arthur were in Romania to oversee his recuperation.

"Ron and Ginny are having the time of their lives, Harry--" Fred had said to him.

"Really spectacular! Too bad you can't join them--" put in George.

"--at Auntie Muriel's. Lovely old lady, really--"

"Mum and Dad packed the kiddies off when they had to leave the Burrow--"

"We offered to put them up here--"

"We have a flat about the shop, you see--

"--but for some reason, Mum said no. I suppose she thought that as Auntie--"

"--really loves company--"

"--and her morning cuppa--"

'--and dusting her bric-a-brac--"

"--and her cats--"

"--and stray teenagers, of course--"

"--especially with a bit of sauce on the side--"

The impression Harry came away with was of a crotchety old lady who couldn't abide teenagers, noise, or surprises of any sort. Which at least explained the lack of an invitation for Harry to visit.

So in the afternoons Harry tried to get a start on reading for his Sixth Year courses or wrote letters to Ron and Hermione. He hadn't much else to do. He wasn't permitted out into Muggle London on his own. And he couldn't even tune into the Wizarding Wireless because Lupin was busy working through a seemingly unending stack of papers at the dining table, which Harry understood to be reports from various Order contacts abroad.

Once, after reading the same page in his Transfiguration textbook three times and understanding none of it, Harry had asked in desperation whether there was anything he could help Lupin with. Silently, Lupin pushed a handful of reports across the table to him. Harry looked down and saw that they were all in some foreign language. Italian. Or possibly Spanish. Harry sighed and pushed them back. He pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill to write yet another letter to Hermione.

Things were cheerier when Tonks was home. The three of them sat around the dining table most evenings, with Harry always seated furthest from Tonks, eating whatever she'd brought for them. Harry loved seeing her walk through the door. Not only did the food smell wonderful, but her smile and laughter were infectious and seemed to lighten the mood between Harry and Lupin.

They ate, chatted (Tonks as always doing most of the work here), played Exploding Snap, or sometimes listened to the Wireless if they could agree on a station. It would have been completely pleasant if there hadn't been an undercurrent of hostility from Lupin whenever the three of them were together. Sometimes Lupin and Tonks went to the pub, leaving Harry alone with his books and the Wireless.

And then there were the nights. Those were worst of all, in Harry's opinion, because the walls of the flat were thin, and Lupin seemed to have an aversion to Silencing charms. Harry had got into the habit of sleeping with his head under his pillow instead of on it, to block out the sounds coming from the next room.

Unfortunately--or fortunately depending on how you looked at it--the sounds still seemed to penetrate his subconscious despite the pillow: His dreams were inhabited by a Tonks who lay pressed beneath him, all soft skin and warm lips and arching body, and whose gasps and hitching breaths were for him instead of for Lupin. He felt a little guilty about it, but after all, he wasn't in control of his dreams, and frankly it was a welcome change from having to watch Sirius die all over again, night after night.

Without ever discussing it, both Harry and Tonks made every effort not to antagonize Lupin by spending too much time together, and by and large it worked. Tonks, Harry had noticed, never came within arms reach of Harry if she could help it: never sat beside him on the sofa, always moved out of the tiny kitchen if he came in. For his part, Harry never commented on the bruises he saw on her right arm, although new ones seemed to appear there just about every day.

Harry would also have liked to ask Tonks more questions about her work as an Auror, but long conversations between the two of them had a way of irritating Lupin.

Only once had Harry and Tonks become carried away. They'd fallen into a spirited discussion about the relative merits of the Comet, the Cleansweep, and Harry's own Firebolt, and had completely forgotten about Lupin until he had abruptly "requested" that Harry to go to his room. What followed had been a repeat of that first night, except that Harry had learned enough by now not to bother pounding on his door.

A few times a week, however, Lupin would be gone in the evenings, meeting with a group of werewolves whom he was trying to convince to throw support behind Dumbledore and the Ministry. An uphill--and more than likely an impossible--battle, as he himself had admitted when he returned very late, looking exhausted and depressed. On those nights when it was just the two of them, Harry and Tonks relaxed a bit, talked more, joked, but still kept well away from the subject that was on both of their minds. Tonks made it very clear that she didn't want to discuss Lupin.

Harry really couldn't blame her for not choosing himself as a confidant. Still, he had concerns. And questions. Lots of them.

* * *

On the day before Harry's birthday, Tonks came home to find Lupin already gone to one of his meetings and Harry in the middle of a mystifying passage about Calming Draughts in his Potions textbook. She held up two bulging shopping bags and grinned, saying, "Remus gone so soon? Too bad. I suppose we'll just have to celebrate on our own, then. Three guesses what's in here!"

A different Tonks walked through the door each afternoon; she never seemed to settle on one hair style or color. It had become almost a game to Harry to try to decide what kind of day she'd had by how she looked when she arrived home. Darker colors meant a hard day; lighter colors usually meant a good day. Today her hair was so blonde it was almost white and hung down her back in long waves. Combined with bright eyes, a wide smile, and a tight Weird Sisters t-shirt, Harry thought he'd never seen her look so pretty.

For once, Tonks let Harry into the kitchen with her to unpack the bags.

"Have to celebrate today instead of tomorrow, Harry," she said, as she pulled a gaily wrapped box out of one of the bags. "Just found out I'm pulling a double shift on your birthday; we have too many people out sick with this blasted Dragon Pox that's going around."

Harry reached into one of the bags and pulled out his favorite pizza, two bottles of elf-made wine, and a square white box that, when opened, revealed an elaborately decorated sponge cake spelling out the message "Happy Birthday, Harry!" in lurid purple icing.

"Brilliant!" he said, and started to dip his finger into the icing when Tonks slapped his hand away with a scandalized, "Tcha!". Then she giggled and said, "Oh well, as it's your birthday, go ahead."

When he hesitated, she stuck her own finger in the icing and dabbed some on his nose. When she snickered at his surprised expression, Harry immediately scooped some of the purple goo onto his own finger and tried to get her back, but she ducked this way and that--with rather impressive reaction times--until finally he just grabbed her and managed to immobilize her long enough to give her a taste of her own medicine, although the streak of purple landed on her cheek instead of the nose he was aiming at.

Suddenly, he felt her stiffen in his arms and pull away from him, her face flaming.

"I'm sorry," he said, without feeling sure that he actually was.

"'S'okay, Harry, it's just-- You know."

"Yeah. I know. But I still--"

But she interrupted him with determined brightness.

"Let's open the pizza! I'm starved, aren't you?"

They decided to eat on the sofa instead of at the table as it was just the two of them. Soon they were sitting cross-legged on the squashy cushion with the large pizza box open between them. Tonks uncorked one of the bottles of wine and poured them both generous glasses. They ate and drank enthusiastically for some time. Then, as Tonks was refilling their glasses, she said--

"Harry... Sirius told me earlier this year that you wanted to become an Auror. Is that still true?"

Harry, his mouth full of pizza, could only nod.

"I was thinking you might like to come in to work with me some time, meet some of the people in the department? You know, sort of get a feel for what we do?"

Swallowing, Harry said, "That'd be great, Tonks. I get sick of hanging around this bloody flat all day-- er, sorry, I mean-- not that I don't appreciate--"

Tonks waved his apology aside. "No problem, Harry. I'd be climbing the walls if I were you, with no one here all day with you but--" She broke off and looked down, biting her lip. As the silence lengthened, she started to pick at a loose thread in the knee of her jeans. Harry noticed that she still had a small smear of purple icing on her cheek. He was seized with a mad urge to lick it off.

Harry decided that this was as good an opening as any to talk about Lupin. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Tonks--"

"I miss Sirius so much, Harry," Tonks said abruptly, continuing to look down. She started twisting the loose thread around her finger, winding and then unwinding.

Harry blinked, but he'd become used to these changes of topic if they got too close to the subject of Lupin. "Erm. Yeah. I do as well." He didn't really know what else to say. He drank more of his wine for something to do, watched her fiddle with her jeans, and admired the inch of skin at her waist where her t-shirt had ridden up.

After a few seconds, Tonks surprised him by saying, "He asked me to look after Remus. Before he died."

"I-- He-- _What_?"

Tonks finally looked up, and Harry saw from the way she couldn't quite meet his eye that she was nervous about telling him this.

Licking her lips, she went on, "He asked me, Sirius did, to keep an eye on Remus if anything ever happened to him."

Harry was dumbfounded. Was this how Tonks interpreted keeping an eye on someone? And why would Sirius ask something like that?

Tonks must have read some of the questions on his face, because she said gently, "Remus and I... Well, we'd been lovers for... oh, for a few months before-- Before, Sirius. Um. Before he died. And..."

She trailed off and picked up the wine bottle, pouring herself another brimming glass. Harry noticed that her hands were shaking very slightly. "You?" she asked, tilting the bottle towards him. He shook his head, and she set it back down on the floor.

Harry waited until she'd drank about half the glass, and then prompted her gently, "But surely, Sirius didn't mean for you to--"

Tonks flushed bright red and said shortly, "No. He didn't. Of course not." She repeated her last three words as if to herself and then took another drink before saying almost harshly, "We were going to split up, Remus and I were. At least, I was going to break it off. It just... we weren't working out, you know? But," she took another drink. "But, then... With what happened, and... No one could stay at Grimmauld Place anymore. So. I told Remus he could move in here. He doesn't have anywhere else, really. Did you know that? Sirius was supporting him. He can't get a job now that everyone knows he's a werewolf. After teaching at Hogwarts."

Despite himself, Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for Lupin. Having to depend on handouts must be... But still. "Tonks, there are other people he could be staying with. Other people in the Order. I don't see how you can live with someone who--"

"He's not a bad man, Harry. And usually he's not like that. It's only when-- Well... I don't think he can help it, is the thing-- And I promised Sirius--"

"Sirius wouldn't want this!" Harry almost shouted it, and Tonks flinched as if she'd been struck. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Harry, promise me something?"

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

"This is important. If Remus ever... If he gets angry with me, promise me you won't do anything. Alright?"

"How can I promise something like that, Tonks?" For some reason, this request made him really angry. "And why shouldn't I? Anyone would want to do something. If you think you need to protect me from him--"

"No! No, Harry. I _don't_ think that." She took a deep breath, and then blew it out impatiently. "Listen. It would make it worse if you do. Believe me." She looked at him very seriously, but apparently he still looked mutinous, so she tried again. "It would make it worse _for me_. Do you understand?"

_Not really_, Harry thought distractedly. He was seriously considering owling Mad-Eye Moody. He needed someone, someone who knew both Tonks and Lupin, that he could confide in.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, all right, Tonks. I'll try." He gave her a smile, but it probably didn't look all that happy.

"It won't be forever, Harry. I need to figure out something to do for him. Somewhere he can go. I can't just ask him to leave without arranging something else, and... Well. That'll be hard right now, because he won't want to leave with you here."

"Why on earth not?" asked Harry, genuinely curious.

"It's... That would be hard for me to explain. Can we-- Let's leave it for another time." Tonks ran fingers through her hair and shook her head, as if to shake the subject matter out of her mind. "But thank you for... well, just thank you."

Harry wondered if he should move out. Try to contact Dumbledore and find another Order member to put him up. On the other hand, he hated the idea of leaving Tonks alone with Lupin. But if she couldn't get rid of him until he, Harry, was gone, then...

Tonks stood up then, and he looked up at her, thinking again how amazing she looked in that t-shirt. She gazed down at him expectantly, and he realized she wanted him to stand as well, so he did.

Giving him an almost flirtatious smile, she said, "Cake?"

He grinned, nodded. Together, they started for the kitchen, when Tonks suddenly pitched forward as she tripped over the almost-empty wine bottle.

He grabbed her to keep her from falling headlong, and she clutched back as he righted her, before collapsing into giggles against his shoulder. "Sorry," she said, and Harry wondered if she'd had one to many glasses of wine.

When she finally looked up at him, her cheeks were flushed. "Merlin knows why was I saddled with two left feet. At least it gave you a chance to show off those Seeker reflexes." She laughed again. "In school my mates always used to say-- Well, I'll tell you another time."

She stood straighter, but Harry still held onto her arms. Their faces were only inches apart, and he could feel her warm breath on his lips. She smelled of wine and something else that he supposed was just... her. His hands didn't appear to want to let go. _Seeker reflexes,_ he thought to himself, and smiled.

For a few moments they simply stood, gazing straight into each others eyes. Then Tonks said somewhat breathlessly, "And I have presents for you. Not just cake."

"Do you?" Harry said. And his hand, seemingly without direction from his brain moved up to cup her soft cheek.

"Mm."

"Good," he said, and then bent his head and kissed her.

* * *


	4. Things Look Up

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter._

* * *

_  
_**A "Saving People" Thing**  
**  
Chapter 4. Things Look Up**  
_  
_Harry had just enough time to register the press of warm, soft lips on his own and the tickle of her hair against his face before Tonks drew back.

He swallowed and started to frame his second "I'm sorry" of the evening, wondering a little apprehensively just how angry she was going to get, when he caught the expression on her face. It looked as if an apology wouldn't be necessary. She was regarding him with a sort of crooked smile which widened as he watched into a broad grin.

She rolled her eyes and said, "That wasn't quite what I meant about a present. But smooth, Harry. Very smooth."

Then she giggled, and he couldn't help but join in.

"Cake first?" she asked over her shoulder as she walked to the kitchen. "Or pressies?"

"Cake," Harry responded promptly. He was lucky that Tonks was such an good-natured person and hadn't taken offense at that impulsive kiss. Stupid move, that was. Having two people irritated with him in one small flat would have been hard to bear, even for someone used to the Dursleys.

He followed her into the kitchen, wondering if it was the unaccustomed wine he'd drank with the pizza that made him more aware of how her hair swung against her back as she walked and the way her jeans followed the curve of her hips. Not that he hadn't admired it before, of course. After all, he was only human. But something seemed different tonight; maybe because he'd kissed her.

Harry set two plates on the worktop while Tonks sliced the birthday cake.

"The budget didn't run to candles, I'm afraid, so you'll just have to make your wish on the icing," Tonks said, dumping a slice rather untidily onto his plate. "If you didn't get your wish already, that is," she added with a dramatic fluttering of eyelashes. He laughed.

By unspoken consent, they sat at the dining table to eat instead of going back to the sofa. Their only concession to Lupin's absence was that Harry sat in the place next to Tonks instead of at the far end of the table.

As they ate, Harry asked Tonks to tell him more about what her Auror training had been like.

She launched into an enthusiastic description of the program in which she'd spent three years before becoming a fully qualified Auror last year. It was more of an apprenticeship than schooling, Harry learned, because the emphasis was on practical training rather than coursework. Hearing this made Harry even more eager to join them; he found himself wishing he could enter the program this year, instead of having to wait until he'd finished his NEWTs, assuming he was even able to achieve the required scores.

"... and the greatest thing is, Harry," Tonks said, licking a smear of icing from her lower lip in a way that probably wasn't supposed to look enticing, "that the best parts of the program don't stop after you qualify. You still do all the physical training. MLE have built a fantastic gym at the Ministry, and they give you time for it as part of your schedule--can you believe, they actually _pay_ you to work out?--and then, of course, you do dueling practice at least twice a week, more if you want, or if you're stuck on desk duty.

"Sounds brilliant!" Harry wished more than ever that he could do magic during the summer. Dueling practice reminded him a bit of the DA last year, and how exciting it had made an otherwise horrendous year.

"Yeah, it is. Totally. For dueling, the department secretaries do up a roster, see? And you rotate through the entire Auror Office so you're always going against someone new. They keep track of the results, and then every week they post the cumulative scores. It's very competitive--Aurors tend to be competitive in general, you know--"

"Do you come out on top?" Harry asked her.

"Oh," Tonks smiled and lowered her eyes with an unconvincing show of modesty. "Yeah. Sometimes I do, actually, but not usually. Will is our best at duelling." Here, Tonks's cheeks turned a little pink, and she went on hurriedly, "But I can generally keep myself in the top five."

"Who's Will?" Harry asked, wondering if he could make her blush even more. As it turned out, he could.

"Oh, Williamson. Uh." Tonks made a face at Harry and said, "Alright, yeah, yeah. No need to smirk at me. We used to date, but it didn't work out. Well, obviously, or I wouldn't have hooked up with Remus, right?"

"What went wrong?" Harry prompted. It wasn't the sort of conversation he'd normally ever enter into with a girl, asking her about her old boyfriends--look what happened with Cho when she talked about Cedric, obviously a Bad Idea all around--and he felt quite uncomfortable doing it. But he couldn't imagine that this Williamson could be a worse boyfriend than Lupin. Maybe he could put in a good word for the bloke. He waited for her to tell him it was none of his business, which, of course, she ought to have done.

Instead, she shrugged and said, "What went wrong? The sodding Order of the Phoenix, that's what. Since I joined up, not only do I have no free time for little things like dates, BUT I also can't tell anyone why I'm busy after work. Let's just say, it doesn't really help a relationship when one of the people in it is keeping lots of secrets. It was like, 'Go out tonight, Tonks?' 'Can't I'm busy.' 'Doing what?' 'Uh, just this and that.'" She sighed. "Will got fed up with that line, and I can't say I blame him."

"Oh. That makes sense. Never thought of the Order putting a crimp in your social life."

"Mm hm. Only thing to do is date someone else in the Order. And if you rule out everyone who's either engaged, married, gay, old enough to be my granddad, or some combination, that leaves..." She held up three fingers and ticked them off one at a time, "Sirius, who's my cousin; Snape, who's not only my former teacher but is also... well, _Snape_; and Remus."

She shrugged.

"So you're telling me Lupin won you over by default? Talk about being in the right place at the right time."

Tonks laughed. "Thanks. I think. But no, that wasn't how it was. I... really, I'm with him because... basically, because I was a naive little idiot."

Harry must have looked surprised, because she went on, "Not that I-- You know, I don't mean anything against Remus in saying that. What I mean is, I was sort of attracted to him because... oh, maybe as a holdover from my rebellious teen years--"

"Which were _so_ long ago--" Harry put in.

"Yeah, I'm ever so much more mature now." Tonks grinned. "No, but... older man. It seemed sort of cool. And a werewolf and all. Daring, you know? I've always liked a bit of adventure in life. And also..." she trailed off.

"Yeah?" he prompted. In some ways, he was glad Tonks was actually talking to him about Lupin. She'd never done this willingly before, and he was wondering if he could somehow work the conversation around to suggesting again that she get Lupin out of the flat. Somehow try to convince Tonks to "help" Lupin some other way.

"He's a kind person--

"Oh. Right. I've seen that."

Her mouth compressed into a tight line. "That's beneath you, Harry. Wasn't he a good teacher to you? He-- I think he deserves to have someone who cares about him. Just-- just, not me."

Harry watched Tonks push the cake crumbs around on her plate with her fork. Pile them up. Knock them over. Pile them up again. Eventually, she said, "Sirius loved him like a brother, just like he loved your dad. But even he tried to warn me that it was a mistake; he said that you can't-- that people don't ever change that much. I didn't listen to him. Thought I knew better."

Harry didn't say anything. Frankly, he didn't know whether he agreed with her or not. Lupin had been a good teacher, though. She was right about that.

Tonks went on, as if trying to convince him. Or maybe she was trying to convince herself. "He's had a really hard life, Harry. He's... I don't know how much of himself he's ever shown to you, but there's a lot of resentment and frustration bottled up in there. The way the Ministry treats Remus like, well, like something you'd scrape off your shoe. And no one in the Wizarding world will employ him, knowing what he is. I thought I might be able to--" she blew out a breath and laughed shortly. "Merlin, this is going to sound stupid, but... I thought I might be able to, you know, save him, somehow."

Despite himself, Harry smiled.

"What?" Tonks said.

"You like to save people, do you?"

Tonks lifted a shoulder and let it drop. "Sometimes. Apparently."

"Once Hermione told me that I had a 'saving people' thing."

Tonks threw her head back suddenly and laughed. When she looked at him again, her eyes were bright. "Well, of course you do, Harry. And if I do, too, then--"

She stuck out her hand and said, "We'll form a club. No-- a partnership," Harry reached out and clasped her hand as she continued. "Our motto: Saving the world, one person at a time."

He looked at her slim, pale fingers resting in his and thought about the circumstances of Hermione's words to him, just before he'd gone off on his ill-fated rescue mission to the Ministry. How they were more of a reprimand than a compliment. He found he liked that Tonks saw the words in a more positive light.

He squeezed Tonks's hand gently and said, "But the thing is, Tonks, that... sometimes... trying to save people isn't the right thing to do. Can be spectacularly the wrong thing, in fact."

_And I'm so sorry for that, Sirius_, Harry thought. For about the ten-thousandth time.

"Sirius?" Tonks asked quietly, gazing into his eyes.

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "But Lupin, too, don't you think?"

"Hm." Tonks pulled her hand away from Harry, pushed out her chair, and stood. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, but with a little shake of her head, she cleared her expression and smiled. Reaching for the empty plates, she declared, "Presents now!"

She came back from the kitchen carrying two gaudily decorated boxes and the second bottle of wine.

As Tonks drew the cork from the bottle with her wand, Harry picked up the first box, wrapped in an almost blinding design of orange and green checks. "Very... eye-catching paper, Tonks," Harry told her with a grin.

"Aw, thanks! I charmed the wrappings myself. I was going to get some of that trick paper--you know the kind the Weasleys sell that rewraps itself as fast as you can tear it?--But then I thought, might be too much..." she shrugged. "But hurry and open it. Go on, open it!" she urged when he hesitated, her eyes sparkling.

Inside was a scarlet t-shirt which, when fully unfolded, revealed the Auror logo of two crossed wands with sparks flying out of them and the legend "Constant Vigilance!"

"Wow!" Harry said, holding it up to his shoulders.

"Nice, Harry. Suits you. Hope it fits, I had to guess your size. It's what all the Aurors wear."

Harry frowned. "I thought it was scarlet robes, not t-shirts."

"Well, yeah. Robes on official business, but the t-shirt's what we duel in, generally. Thought it might help keep you motivated during your NEWT classes. And it'll come in handy in other ways..."

"What do you mean?"

In answer, she tilted her head towards the second box. Harry pulled it toward him and opened it. Inside was another box. With a slightly exasperated glance at Tonks, he opened this one as well. Another box. After several more rounds of this, he got down to small container about the size of a deck of Exploding Snap cards. When he opened it, three items fell out: A folded sheet of parchment, a grubby note, and a name tag.

On the name tag, Harry read, "Ministry of Magic" and under that, "Harry Potter" and under that, "On Auror business." He lifted an eyebrow at Tonks.

She hugged herself, her eyes dancing, and said, "Read the parchment."

On it, in the pompous language of the Ministry, was permission for him to come to the Ministry to participate in "such exercises and training as shall be deemed fitting for an Auror trainee." It was signed by one Gawain Robards, Head of Auror Office.

Harry looked at her, open mouthed. "How--"

She waved his question away. "Don't ask me. Mad-Eye finagled it somehow. He knows everyone from Scrimgeour on down. Trained most of 'em. Old Scrim's Minister of Magic now, but he used to be Head of the Auror Office, and before that--way before--a wet-behind-the-ears trainee under Mad-Eye. I reckon Scrim has his own reasons for wanting you at the Ministry, but if it means you can come and duel with us, it'll be worth it, don't you think?"

"God, yes. It's... I don't know how to thank you, Tonks, this is--"

"Brilliant, I know. But don't thank me, it was Mad-Eye who managed it. I just did the gift wrapping. And speaking of Mad-Eye, read that last bit."

Harry picked up the grubby note and deciphered the scrawl. "It says, 'Nymphadora- The lad can use his wand at your flat as long as you or Lupin is there with him. I've triple-verified that the Ministry trace can't pick out Harry's specific magical signature. Make sure he brushes up on his defensive spells, counter-jinxes, and warding charms. C. V. -Alastor'"

Tonks was watching him with amusement as he sat there, dumbfounded. "Christmas come early, eh, Harry?"

"Damn! I-- You don't know how much I've been wanting--" Impulsively, he reached over and hugged Tonks with one arm. "Thank you again!"

"And again, it wasn't--"

"But you're the one who's here. And besides, I don't want to hug Moody."

"Fair point," Tonks conceded with a grin.

"And do you really call him Alastor?"

"He keeps hoping. I'm the one who gave him his nickname. Did I ever tell you how that happened?"

They chatted and laughed and drank their wine, while Harry learned more about Alastor Moody than he ever wanted to know. Eventually, they moved onto the floor to sit cross-legged and play Exploding Snap.

It was only 9 o'clock, and Lupin wouldn't be home until at least 11. Often he arrived much later than that, creeping in with a discouraged air and slumping into the armchair to stare at nothing. When that happened, Tonks made tea and filled the air with a soothing patter of words until the worry lines etched into the man's gradually cleared.

Harry and Tonks played cards for about ten minutes, but for some reason Harry wasn't in the mood for Snap. After only one hand, he tossed his cards onto the carpet between them. They went off with a sharp _pop-pop-pop!_ and both Harry and Tonks ducked matter-of-factly from the fusillade of sparks that shot out in all directions.

"Not in the mood?" Tonks inquired.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, wondering why he felt so restless. "I generally enjoy getting my eyebrows singed--I mean, who wouldn't--but..."

"Well, it _is_ your birthday celebration. What do you want?"

Harry grinned a trifle uncertainly. "Erm... There is... something else I'd like to do."

She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted a suspicious eyebrow. "Oh?" There was a hint of a mischievous smile in her eyes.

"Not that."

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure."

"You have quite an ego, Tonks." Harry lifted his eyebrows. "Anyone ever mention that?"

"Might've done." She snickered. "Alright. What, then?"

"If I can use magic, I'd like you to teach me something."

"Sure. What?"

"How to heal those marks on your arm."

Tonks blinked. Looked down. Scowled.

Then she smiled faintly. "Alright, Harry. It's a good thing to learn, anyway. Do you know any healing spells?"

"Um. No, can't think of any."

"Yeah, I think they're mostly done in Sixth and Seventh year. They're not that hard, but if they go wrong, they can actually hurt you, sometimes seriously. I think they like to save 'em for when people aren't still accidentally setting fire to their desks and whatnot, if you see what I mean."

Harry nodded. "Should I get my wand? It's somewhere buried in my trunk."

"Nah. Use mine." She pulled her wand out of her belt holster and handed it to him. It was a smooth honey-colored oak, and the handle was warm from being next to her body. "Might not work quite as well for you as your own, but it'll do. As I said, the spells aren't difficult."

Tonks crawled over so that she was sitting next to him on the floor, with their backs against the sofa. "Right," she said. "I think Episkey would be the best one to learn today. It's a bit more advanced than what you'd learn in school, but amazingly versatile: heals everything from minor fractures, to sprains, to cuts and abrasions, to bruises. Can even fix a dislocation with an extra little flourish on the end of the wand motion."

They spent a few minutes practicing the incantation and the wand movements until Tonks was satisfied that Harry could do it well. "Good," she said. "Now for a practical demonstration."

She held out her left hand, and Harry saw a small cut on her index finger. "Got it slicing the cake," she explained sheepishly.

"But what about your bruises?"

"Start with this, Harry, because if something should go wrong on my right arm, it's harder for me to fix it myself. I can't-- Well, it's difficult to point your wand at your own wand arm if you see what I mean."

Comprehension dawned. "Oh. Is that why it's always on your right arm that I see--"

"Yes." Tonks cut him off sharply.

"Doesn't anyone ever ask you--"

Again she cut him off. "Aurors get banged up all the time. It's part of the job."

"But--"

"Harry."

Harry sighed. "Okay. Episkey, then?" Tonks nodded and held out her cut finger. Harry muttered the incantation and flicked the wand. The cut healed instantly.

"That was perfect, Harry. Let's try another."

He moved his wand to point at one of the larger bruises on her wand arm, but she stopped him, nudging the wand away. "Not quite yet," she told him. "I'd feel better if you practiced another time or two first. Here, let me." She took her wand from him and tapped her left wrist, using a silent incantation. Immediately, her wrist took on a bluish tint and started to swell. Tonks winced, and handed the wand back to Harry.

"What the-- Tonks! What did you just do?" Harry looked from her face to her wrist, aghast.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Harry. I just sprained it."

"You just-- Are you out of your mind?" As he watched, the blue tinge to the injured arm was deepening to purple and the swelling had increased visibly.

"Just hurry and heal it, Harry," Tonks said through gritted teeth. "Then I'll explain." Harry did so with an irritated flick of his wand, uttering "_Episkey_!" with rather more emphasis than necessary. The injury vanished.

"Now. Do you want to explain what you just did," Harry asked coldly. "Because the point here, in case you missed it, is to remove pain, not to inflict more."

"Don't look at me like that! I just-- Listen. It isn't like I'm some sort of closet masochist, no matter what you may have guessed to the contrary." She watched his face. "Is that honestly what you thought?" When Harry didn't answer, she went on. "It's how Robards taught _me._ Made me heal every sort of wound on him before he'd turn me loose on an unwary populace. The man fractured his own tibia for me. Dislocated his thumb, too." She shuddered at that memory. "I won't make you do all that. I think we can give you a pass."

"Gosh, thanks," Harry replied dryly. "And just how do you come to know a spell for spraining your own wrist?"

"Oh, Aurors get taught a lot of jinxes like that on the off chance they'll be useful during an apprehension. Mostly we use a stunner, or a leg-lock, or Petrificus if we need to. But you'd be surprised how often a simple thing like a nose-bleed comes in handy."

Harry couldn't keep himself from giving a snort of laughter at the idea of Mad-Eye Moody arresting some Dark wizard by giving him a nose-bleed. Tonks smiled back at him and held out her wand arm. "Ready to try, then?"

Harry held up the wand and with his other hand grasped her wrist loosely to steady her arm. One at a time, he made the bruises vanish with satisfying completeness. Only once did a contusion not disappear entirely, but faded to a yellowish mark. Tonks explained with clinical detachment that he had to flick the wand more sharply for deeper injuries.

When he had finished healing all the bruises he could find, he started to turn her arm over to look at the underside. Tonks tightened up and resisted momentarily, but then with an almost unnoticeable sigh, she let him do it. On the white skin were five dark marks in the perfect shape of fingertips. Harry glanced up at her, but Tonks didn't meet his eye.

With five quick taps of his wand, they were gone as well. What wasn't gone was the weird turmoil of feelings churning around in Harry's gut. He wanted... He hardly knew what he wanted, except that it seemed to involve beating Remus Lupin to a bloody pulp. And Tonks... he wanted... he wished he could do more than just make those bruises go away. But he didn't know what else he could do.

Harry looked down at the tender skin of Tonks's arm, squeezed her wrist lightly, and then let her go. He didn't think he could look at her, so he stared down at the floor instead.

After a minute, he felt Tonks scoot closer so that their shoulders and knees were touching as they sat. After another minute, he felt her hand sneak into his and they interlaced their fingers. More time passed. She lay her head against his shoulder. He could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo.

He said, "This isn't very kind, you know." His voice held a note of humorous complaint.

"What isn't?" she asked in the same tone.

"Teasing me like this. And on my birthday, too."

"Oh." Tonks appeared to think about this for a few seconds. He could feel her cheek smiling against his shoulder. "Would it be kinder if we called it flirting?"

Harry wondered if he'd heard right, but decided to go with it. "Definitely."

"Alright, then. Let's." And with that, she hooked an arm around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. Which was just as pleasant as the first one had been, and lasted rather longer.

Kissing Tonks was nothing like kissing Cho. That was the first revelation. They were both girls, but that was pretty much where the comparison ended. Of course, Tonks had probably had quite a lot more practice at it than Cho (and Harry didn't really like to think about where she'd been practicing), but it felt like more of a difference than that.

The second revelation was that Tonks wasn't the type to wait around while Harry did all the work. That probably shouldn't have counted as a revelation at all, knowing Tonks as well as he now did. She appeared intent on exploring every inch of his mouth with her tongue, and of course he wanted to return the favor.

It didn't take long before hands became involved. Harry had one tangled in Tonks's hair and the other at the small of her back, pulling her tightly against him. Somehow, she'd ended up halfway onto Harry's lap, and Harry definitely wasn't complaining. He could feel her breasts pressing against him, and that was certainly another difference from Cho, who had the skinny body of a Seeker.

Tonks's own hands had found their way under his shirt. She was scraping her fingernails lightly down his chest in a way that was causing heat to radiate out to the rest of body in all sorts of directions, so that his cheeks were flushed and he was starting to wish that she'd shift just a little farther onto his lap.

After a minute, or maybe it was an hour--Harry's time sense seemed to have deserted him--Tonks wiggled a bit in his arms, and he stopped what he was doing rather reluctantly. She looked fantastic with her hair all mussed up and her lips red from his kisses. He wondered if this felt as unbelievably good to her as it did to him. He thought so, from the way she was looking at him. Her eyes looked full of both mischief and desire.

Then her mouth curved into a mysterious smile, and she said, "I have one more present for you. It's in your room."

She took his hand, stood, and pulled him towards his bedroom; it would have taken a lot more strength of will than Harry possessed at that moment to do anything but follow her. He spent the seconds it took getting to his room trying to remember how to breath normally.

When they got there, Tonks dropped his hand and knelt beside his bed. He looked down at her confusedly and wondered if he was meant to do that as well. Then Tonks reached beneath the bed and started rummaging around amongst the items she had stored there. It turned out to be quite a lot. She'd pulled out half a dozen things, ranging from a lime-green trainer to a very ancient packet of Chocolate Frogs before saying, "Ah ha!" and dragging out a rather dusty box.

His brief fantasy of being dragged into bed and seduced by Tonks having fizzled, he squatted down beside her and asked, "For me?"

"Yeah. Now don't get your hopes up--"

"Oh, no, I wasn't at all--"

"Git." She gave him a quick grin. "Just something I don't use anymore that I thought you might like to take back to Hogwarts with you."

She opened the box and pulled out... well, it was somewhat anti-climactic, Harry thought, even without his hopes up. She hefted a pair of small dumbbells.

"Er," said Harry, in what he hoped was a grateful tone.

"Free weights," she said, looking at them fondly. "You know you can do a complete workout with just these two little buggers? You can adjust their mass. It's a simple charm. I've got the book that goes with it somewhere--" she glanced around vaguely. "Anyway. It has everything in it."

She handed him the weights, which were heavier than looked possible, given their size. Harry supposed they were magically adjusted. "Mad-Eye gave me those when I was fifteen," she said reminiscently. "Told me--"

"Wait. Moody gave you those--"

"Yeah. Said something like, 'Can't start too soon, lass, if you want to join--"

"When you were fifteen?"

"Well, maybe it was fourteen. No, it was early in Fifth year, so fifteen'd be right, and he--"

"How did you come to know Moody when you were--"

"He recruited me, Harry. I thought you knew that. For the Aurors. I must've told you that Metamorphmagi are very rare. Don't think there's been one in Britain before me since my great-great-Aunt Cassiopeia died around the time of Grindelwald's war. Mad-Eye came up to Hogwarts early in my Fifth year, met with me and my Head of House, Professor Sprout. Told me I'd need to pull up my socks, girl, and pass my OWLs, or he'd personally come back up and hex me. Good old Mad-Eye. Scared the shit out of me at the time." She grinned fondly.

Standing up, Tonks dusted off her knees and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Well? she said expectantly. "You want 'em?"

"If you're sure you don't need them. Yes. Thanks."

"No problem. I use the Ministry for training now. I'll find that book for you, and you can start any time you like. As Mad-Eye would say," she cleared her throat and said gruffly, "'Can't start too soon, lad!' And of course you might want to do some running--"

"You run, too?"

"Yeah. Used to. Every day, except--" she stopped.

Harry waited.

She muttered, "Remus didn't care for my running partner, so I left off a couple of weeks ago, but I'm working on finding someone else."

Harry tossed the weights onto the bed. The desire to take a Bludger bat to Lupin was stronger than ever, but it was strangely intertwined with an almost equally intense desire to get Tonks into a clinch and kiss her until she was breathless. He compromised by putting his hands on her shoulders and drawing her in for a hug. She felt very warm. He moved one hand under her hair at the base of her neck. When his fingers brushed over the small bones at the top of her spine, she shivered.

"This is probably not a good idea," Tonks murmured against his collar bone.

"Not a good idea?" Harry repeated, trying to breath steadily despite the turbulent sensations that were rocketing around in his chest. "Who could think that?"

"That would be me," came the slightly hoarse voice of Remus Lupin, who was leaning against the door frame.

* * *

_A/N: Dun! Dun! Dun! -ahem- Sorry. Just reveling in the first real cliffhanger of my shortish career as a writer._


	5. A Gryffindor Effort

_A/N: __I believe I left you on the edge of a cliff with the last chapter, so here we go..._

* * *

_  
_**A "Saving People" Thing**  
**  
Chapter 5. A Gryffindor Effort**  
_  
_For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved. Probably, no one even breathed.

And then, in an unsurprising development--unsurprising to Harry, at any rate--Tonks took it upon herself to try to put everything back to rights.

She turned away from Harry and gave Lupin with a smile of welcome. "Wotcher, Remus! I didn't expect you back this early--"

"Yes. That much was obvious." Lupin remarked calmly, not moving from his position leaning on the frame of Harry's bedroom door.

"It's good that you could get away. I suppose it's because of tomorrow's--"

"Yes," Lupin said again. "Everything's arranged." And although outwardly Lupin appeared to be quite relaxed, Harry thought he detected something in the man's carefully blank expression that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle with warning.

Tonks gestured to the bed, on which lay the two weights. She took a step towards Lupin saying, "I was just showing Harry--"

At that instant, Harry reached out and pulled her backward with a sharp tug on her arm. Something in the way that Lupin was staring at her had set off loud alarm bells in Harry's head. He knew it wasn't just his imagination.

Tonks shot Harry a look of annoyed surprise. "Harry! I--"

She yanked her arm but Harry didn't let go, just gripped it harder and pulled her until she was slightly behind him. He heard her let out a _huff_ of annoyance, but she didn't say anything else. She was probably rolling her eyes, but as long as he could keep her back...

When Harry looked up, it was to find that Lupin's steady gaze had shifted away from Tonks towards him. Harry could swear that the man was actually smiling a bit. Somehow, that didn't feel like a good sign. Uneasiness seemed to coil itself around Harry's gut. He should be making a plan. Some sort of plan. _Think,_ he urged his brain.

"Listen. This is stupid," Tonks said, a little desperately, from the vicinity of Harry's left shoulder.

"Hush, Dora." Lupin didn't look at her as he spoke. Instead, he continued to favor Harry with a look of secret amusement; it was beginning to feel more than a little creepy, and the coil of tension inside him tightened considerably.

_Do something,_ Harry commanded himself. But what? Should he simply spring at Lupin in the hope of knocking him down before he could reach for his wand? Harry decided would if he had to, but it seemed sure to fail.

Of course, his options would have been a lot broader at this point if only he had his own wand. Harry silently cursed that he hadn't taken it from his trunk when Tonks had taught him the Episkey charm.

_Tonks._ That was it. Tonks had her wand, not that she'd ever use it against the bastard-- not if she'd never done it before now. Harry didn't know how quick Lupin was with a wand, but Harry reckoned that if he himself could hold own against the Death Eaters at the Ministry, he'd have at least a fighting chance against Lupin as well. It had to be done fast, though--

In the time it took for Harry to make the decision and half turn to Tonks--for he was determined to snatch her wand without warning and use it instantly--Lupin had his own wand out, and then Tonks's wand was sailing through the air to Lupin, who caught it deftly in his other hand.

"Hey!" Tonks cried out in protest. "Harry, let go!" She jerked her arm away from Harry again, and again he tightened his grip. He knew he must be hurting her, but he didn't see what else he could do. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if he was going to be leaving five finger marks on her arm. He prayed fervently that she'd _just be quiet._ Didn't she have any sense for what was actually happening here?

"And Remus, give it back!" Tonks had given up trying to pull away from Harry. She put her hand out impatiently towards Remus for her wand. She was probably glaring as well, but Harry wasn't planning on taking his eyes off Lupin anytime soon to find out.

Lupin looked at her wand as if surprised that he had it, and then twirled it in a manner that anyone watching might have called playful. "Oh, yes," he said, giving his words the slightest emphasis. "Yes, Dora. I certainly will give you your wand back."

Harry heard Tonks's sharply indrawn breath and felt her stiffen beside him. Her outstretched arm slowly dropped to her side. This time, he did risk a quick glance; her face had gone as white as parchment.

While Harry was trying to work out exactly what Tonks had been reacting to, she burst out, "Please, Remus. Just-- Stop this. You know I'll do whatever you want. Only leave Harry out of it."

"Alright," Lupin said agreeably. "I will. Come along, Dora."

The seconds ticked by, but Harry didn't loosen his hold on Tonks's arm. He stood as if frozen, grappling with a complete lack of ideas, wishing he could come up with some way--_any_ way--to make this situation disappear.

"Harry, will you please let her go now?" Lupin finally asked him.

"No," Harry said tensely. His stomach felt as if it had tied itself in knots, but his mind was remarkably clear. "I won't." Without taking his eyes from Lupin, he said, "Tonks, you don't have to go. You-- You can stay here with me and tomorrow--"

"Harry, shut up!" Tonks all but shouted. "Didn't I warn you, practically beg you not to-- Oh, Merlin's bloody-- Tonight of all nights--"

"Hush, Dora," Lupin said again. "Let Harry talk. He looks as if he has something he wants to say."

"First promise me, Remus. Promise me that you'll let Harry alone. I already said I'll do--"

"Dora." For the first time, Lupin's voice held a faint note of warning, and Tonks fell silent.

Harry forced his fingers to relax and let go of Tonks's arm. She didn't move or indeed respond at all to being freed from his grip. For a moment, Harry saw her expression. She was gnawing at her lower lip, and her face was so ghostly pale that she looked ill. Then she turned her head turned resolutely away, as if trying to disassociate herself from both Harry and Lupin.

Harry stepped forward until he was directly between Lupin and Tonks. He took a deep breath. "Yeah, there is something I wanted to say."

Lupin went on fingering Tonks's wand and waited for Harry continue.

"She isn't coming with you. You won't get away with this anymore, Lupin, because... because _I won't let you_." And there it was. A fine Gryffindor speech, Harry thought to himself in disgust. With nothing whatsoever to back it up.

Apparently, Lupin was thinking along the same lines. His mouth twitched as if he were suppressing an outright smile.

"And how would you stop me?" Lupin asked. His tone held only mild curiosity but the message in his eyes was an entirely different one.

Harry could feel his shoulder muscles tensing, readying for... something. "I'll fight you if I have to. I'll--"

"Some other time, Harry. Maybe when you're older." Lupin interrupted dismissively and something savage seemed to tear itself loose inside of Harry. His breath was coming faster, and he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Lupin looked at Tonks. "Come along, Dora." Lupin stood aside from the doorway and waited. A small muscle in his cheek was twitching. His wand was pointed, as if by chance, at Harry's chest.

Tonks moistened her lips, her glance flicking between the wand and Harry's tense body.

And then several things seemed to happen at once. Tonks stepped toward the doorway, and Lupin pivoted slightly away from Harry to let her past him. Harry, who had been steeling himself to lunge at Lupin in some sort of stupid, impossible, last-ditch, bloody Gryffindor effort, suddenly remembered the weights.

Without a moment's hesitation he snatched one from the bed.

Lupin must have seen the motion from the corner of his eye, because he turned swiftly and raised his wand. Harry jumped forward with no clear plan in mind except to _get Lupin,_ his body twisting just enough to avoid the stunning spell Lupin threw at him. With a sidearm swing, he brought the dumbbell crashing against Lupin's temple. The impact made a sickening thud, and Lupin collapsed like a pile of bricks, dropping to the floor like a deadweight.

Harry was on him in an instant. Still acting on instinct, he brought one hand to Lupin's throat and clutched, while his other hand raised the weight for another blow to the unconscious man. But before Harry could hit him again, Tonks was wrenching his weapon out of his grasp and flinging it away with a grunt of effort. It struck the wall with a metallic clang that brought Harry at least partially back to an awareness of his surroundings.

Tonks was pulling at his shirt, frantically trying to shift him off of Lupin. He gave way to her, thinking dimly that she had every right to have a crack at him herself. As if from far away, he heard her voice repeating distractedly, "_ohmygodharry, ohgodohgod_."

In the aftermath of that sudden rush of adrenaline, his heart was rebounding painfully against his ribs, leaving him breathless and unsteady. He sat heavily on the bed and looked down at Lupin and Tonks.

With a mixture of triumph and nausea, he noted the large pool of blood that was already spreading across the floor from the gash on the side of Lupin's head. He wondered numbly if his former professor was dead. He looked it. So much red. But hadn't he once heard that even minor head wounds bleed heavily, so maybe not yet...

Tonks reclaimed her wand from where it was still lay in Lupin's hand and crouched next to his body. She started muttering rapid incantations, tapping a shaking wand tip against the crimson wound. When her other hand made an impatient swipe across her eyes, Harry realized she was crying.

It was then, and with gradually increasing horror, that Harry understood what she was doing. "T-Tonks! What are you--? _Don't!_ Tie him up! Tie him up first! Don't let him-- My God, Tonks-- _don't_--"

Harry was off the bed, but before he could reach her, she turned her wand on him, and this time the tip was steady. "Get back! Don't come near him, Harry. He's-- You could have _killed_ him. Do you know how much trouble you'll be in if I can't fix this without anyone knowing? Do you want to go to fucking Azkaban? I said _stay back!_" These last words came fiercely as Harry took another step forward, and Tonks jabbed her wand at him with unmistakable purpose.

There was only one thing to do. Harry turned and climbed across the bed to get to his trunk on the other side of the room. Falling to his knees, he threw open the lid and began pulling everything out, desperate to reach his own wand. _Where is it, damn it?_ Half the things were out of the trunk now, flung away in his near-frenzied search.

And then, with a sinking heart, Harry heard Tonks say, "_Ennervate!_" One glance over his shoulder was enough to get him on his feet again, wandless still. As he moved around the bed, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

He saw Lupin look up at him, his eyes widening in comprehension. From his prone position, Lupin thrust a forearm against Tonks's chest and sent her reeling backward. Her back met the door frame with a dull thud, and Harry heard her groaning exhalation as the wind was knocked out of her.

Lupin's wand was out before Harry could get himself within reach and in almost the same instant Harry was hit with a hex of such force that he was lifted bodily into the air.

He felt himself being flung back, and then he crashed hard against the wall. By the time his head cleared, and he was able to push himself to a sitting position, Lupin had Tonks on her feet again. They were moving out the door as Harry watched helplessly, Lupin again holding both his own wand and Tonks's.

Tonks wasn't exactly struggling, but she appeared to be resisting Lupin as he drew her through the doorway.

She looked back over her shoulder at Harry and then started speaking rapidly to Lupin in a low voice, "Leave him alone, Remus, please don't do this, you know you don't want to, not really, it's the moon that's doing it, surely you can see that if you'll just think for a minute, and I know you'll be sorry for it later, and so do you, so _please _don't, oh please, just-- you aren't yourself--"

Lupin flicked Tonks's own wand at her. Tonks's mouth kept moving for a few seconds, but now no sounds emerged.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, Dora, but sometimes you don't know when to stop," Lupin told her, with maddening politeness. "Why you imagine that I'm going to do anything to Harry, I don't know. What do you take me for? He's just a boy."

As they turned to leave, Remus looked back at Harry. "And don't worry, Harry. I'll lift the charm on her soon. I expect you like to listen to the sounds she'll be making just as much as I do."

In one motion, Harry sprang to his feet and launched himself at Lupin.

Lupin pointed his wand almost lazily, and Harry was struck with a white-hot pain that seared its way up his backbone and seemed to explode behind his eyes. Once more he felt himself in the air, hurtling backwards. He twisted, trying futilely to right himself in the split second before his head struck his trunk and everything went black.

* * *

_A/N:Thanks to all who commented on the last chapter, including anonymous reviewers Julia, Liquidfyre, and caleb._


	6. The Flaw in the Plan

_A/N: Thanks, everyone, for your comments on the last chapter. I do read and respond to them all._

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**A "Saving People" Thing**  
**  
Chapter 6. The Flaw in the Plan**

Harry opened his eyes to a pounding headache, a metallic taste in his mouth, and an utter conviction that somehow, somewhere, something was very wrong.

He sat up and immediately wished he hadn't. The ache coalesced into a sharp pain between his eyes that radiated outward until his entire head felt as if it were cracking open. He ran a hand gingerly over his scalp. There was a sizable knot behind his right ear, but seemingly no blood.

He was on the floor next to his trunk instead of his bed. But... why? A growing sense of unease, as yet unfocused but no less real for that, brought him to his knees and then onto shaky legs. He needed to do... something. Right now.

The faint light from the window told him that it was near dawn. This close to midsummer, that meant perhaps half five or even earlier. In the dimness, he could make out the outline of his open trunk and a scattered pile of clothes and books around it.

And then he remembered everything. His first thought was, _How could she have fucking done that?_

His second thought was, _Wand._

Ignoring the vertigo that seemed to come with every movement, Harry bent over his trunk to resume the search that he'd begun last night. Ironically, it took him only seconds this time to came up with the holly wand that had been his most important possession for the past six years. He made a silent vow that he was never, ever going to be caught without it again.

Although the house was quiet, Harry's unease was mounting to something close to panic. Every particle of Harry's body was screaming for him _move,_ to get out and find them. Harry forced himself to stand still for a few seemingly endless seconds. He strained his ears for the faintest sound.

Nothing.

They must be sleeping. Or... Harry couldn't shake the fear that Tonks might be dead. The way Lupin had looked at her last night...

Harry slipped across his room to the door, which was still ajar. Lupin hadn't locked him in this time. He wondered what spell Lupin had hit him with that made him so confident that Harry would stay unconscious. Or maybe Lupin was simply confident that Harry wouldn't be able to actually do anything to him, Harry reflected bitterly.

Well, he was going to find out differently now.

Harry put his head cautiously around the door and looked around. Still no noises. The light was slightly brighter in the main room. The east window showed rosy streaks splayed across the sky, but the sun hadn't yet risen. He stepped into the center of the main room, turning in a circle with his wand out. Nothing stirred.

The door to Tonks's room was also ajar. Harry approached it carefully, his bare feet making no sound on the carpet.

Before he did anything, though, Harry knew he needed a plan. The patented Gryffindor headlong rush wasn't going to help him now any more than it had last night. An Incarcerous, he decided. Tie them up. Both of them. Because at this point he certainly couldn't trust Tonks not to set Lupin free.

He still couldn't believe what she'd done last night. They'd had that sick fuck flat out on the ground unconscious. Was she out of her bloody mind? No, that shouldn't even be a question. She _was_ out of her bloody mind.

So, get them tied up and then... What next? _Think. Think, damn it._ Would he be able to bring himself to kill Lupin? Probably not. Not in cold blood. Although a part of him thought it would almost be worth being sent to Azkaban for killing that prick. Wait... Was it even illegal to kill a werewolf? Especially if it was in self-defense? If there'd been provocation? Harry tried to remember the events of last night as clearly as he could. He remembered hitting Lupin's smirking face with that weight, but...

There _had_ been provocation, hadn't there? Surely Tonks would back him up on that. She was an Auror. She'd have to tell the truth, have to testify that Lupin had... Had what? Harry shook his head in frustration. Because Harry had hit him _first_. A preemptive strike.  
_  
_Would that be enough for the Wizengamot? Would they trust him, even after all the Daily Prophet articles last summer that he was off his head, making up stories to get attention? And Lupin hadn't fired off a hex until _after_ Harry had hit him with the weight. Could Lupin make a case of self-defense for himself?

Suddenly, Harry wasn't sure of anything.

He rubbed his head, wishing the ache would go away so he could _think_. Nothing was coming out straight in his mind. Harry tried to regain the certainty he'd felt last night. Yeah. Lupin deserved whatever he got-- Azkaban. Dementors. A taste of the Cruciatus curse would be good. His hand curled in a tight grip on his wand as he considered his options.

Could Dumbledore help? No, Harry decided. Somehow he didn't feel he could count on his Headmaster to do the right thing in this situation. Dumbledore didn't exactly have a track record of helping people, did he? People helped Dumbledore, trusted Dumbledore. But it wasn't a two-way street. _Great man, Dumbledore,_ as Hagrid had said. But definitely not a man to set aside his own important concerns to deal with what he'd probably consider a trifling domestic tiff.

Or maybe he should contact Moody. He'd know what to do. He cared about Tonks. He'd be able to fix this.

Or... Nothing. He'd run out of ideas. So Incarcerous first, definitely, and then Moody. Sounded like a plan. Time to put it into action.

With a quick, steadying breath, Harry moved around the corner of Tonks's door, wand arm raised and an Incarcerous ready at his lips.

Lupin wasn't there. Just Tonks. Sleeping.

A white sheet, whose lack of color looked strangely out of place in her otherwise exuberantly decorated room, was pulled up to her chin. Harry could make out the sharp angle of her shoulder and hip as she lay on her side facing him. Her hair was short and spiky, and very dark against her pale skin. For a moment Harry was struck almost painfully by her resemblance to Sirius: they had the same high cheekbones and sharp chin.

The rise and fall of her breath seemed steady, and her face was reassuringly peaceful in sleep. The anger and frustration Harry felt towards Tonks for the way she acted last night were still very much alive in him, but watching her sleep seemed to blunt the bitterest edges.

Harry looked a little self-consciously into the corners of the room to make sure Lupin wasn't lurking somewhere, but of course he wasn't. And there'd been no sound from the toilet or shower since he'd been listening, either. Why had Lupin gone? And where? As Harry backed towards the door, a board squeaked under his foot, and Tonks's eyes flew open, looking almost black in her pallid face.

Her hand, which had been tucked under her pillow, came out holding her wand. She blinked.

"Harry?" Her voice sounded rusty from sleep, and slightly hoarse.

Harry lowered his own wand. "Yeah. Are you--?"

"Are you alright?" she interrupted, narrowing her eyes and looking him over intently.

Harry felt that he should be the one leading the questioning, but he said, "Yeah. Where's--"

"He didn't hurt you?"

Her wand was still out, pointing to him. As he looked at it, she seemed to realize she was holding it and tucked it under her pillow again.

"No," he replied impatiently. "Where's--"

"I'm sorry I didn't-- I meant to check on you after--"

"_Where's Lupin?_"

"Gone." she said. An unreadable expression flickered in her eyes. "He's not coming back."

"Gone?" he repeated. _Gone._ Harry was torn between relief and a strangely acute disappointment, as if someone had stolen something from him. Where had Lupin gone? And why? How did she know he wasn't coming back? Had she done something to make him leave? A dozen questions were crowding onto the tip of his tongue, but her eyes had closed again and Harry could see dark smudges underneath them.

"Tonks. Um. Are you okay?"

"Fine, Harry. Leave me alone, alright?" she replied, without opening her eyes. "Please."

"Is there anything I can--"

"No."

"Are you--"

This time she did open her eyes, and there was no mistaking the look in them this time. "Will you just _sod off_?"

Harry recoiled as if she'd struck him. Not only was Tonks apparently not jumping for joy to see that he was unharmed, even after all he'd tried to do for her last night, but she was pissed off as well. With that thought came a swift resurgence of his irritation, this time accompanied by the conviction that Tonks was not just deluded about Lupin, but mentally unbalanced.

It had been a long time coming, but Harry now recognized that this was a situation beyond his ability to understand, let alone fix. So much for saving people. Apparently some of them didn't want saving no matter how much they might need it.

Without a word, Harry turned and left the room.

He had to get out of the flat. Move out and find somewhere else to stay. Today. Probably the Weasley twins would help him. Dumbledore wouldn't like it, but Dumbledore could--

He went back to his room and looked towards Hedwig's cage, where she was preening her white feathers. Her wings ruffled expectantly when he came near. Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill, Harry scribbled a note. _Mr. Moody, will you please come as soon as you can? I'm staying in Tonks's flat. I need to talk to you urgently. Harry Potter._

Harry reread the note and thought about how much it didn't say. He picked up his quill again, underlined "urgently" twice, and then addressed the note and tied it to Hedwig's leg. As he watched the owl soar across the pale blue sky, he felt a flood of relief, a release of the tension that he'd been holding onto for the past two weeks. It was out of his hands now. Let Moody deal with Tonks. He could figure out how to, if anyone could.

Harry knelt and tipped everything from the floor back into his trunk. Then he made a circuit of the room, picked up the rest of his belongings, and shoved them into the trunk as well. Because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he wouldn't be sleeping in this room again.

The box for the weights sat on the floor where Tonks had dragged it out from under the bed yesterday evening. That evening that now seemed like a long time in the past, when Tonks had joked about Moody threatening to hex her if she didn't pull up her socks and pass her OWLs.

Harry grabbed the weight from the bed and tossed it into the box. Then he picked up the other one where it lay on the floor near the wall. There was a dent in the wall where Tonks had thrown it.

Harry looked at the second weight for a long time before tossing it with a resolute _clang_ into the box with its mate. He pushed the box back under the bed with his foot until it disappeared.

There was nothing to do now but wait. If Moody didn't come by noon, he'd head over to Fred and George's shop and wait there.

His stomach rumbled, so he headed to the kitchen and rooted around for something to eat. There wasn't much to choose from: the heel ends of a loaf of bread, a couple of hard-cooked eggs, and some mayonnaise that didn't look too suspicious. He set about making himself a sandwich.

The sound of water gurgling down the drain told him that Tonks was in the shower. Harry supposed that this was about the time she normally got up and dressed for work. He wondered what it was like, waking up every day at the break of day and going out into the city at such an early hour. The traffic would just be starting to get heavy as people rushed off to jobs or school.

Harry finished making his sandwich and carried it to the dining table. He sat down to eat but somehow he wasn't very hungry anymore. After staring at his plate for a long while, as if it might suddenly reveal the secrets of the universe, he gave up, stood, and walked to the window. Idly, he looked down at the pavement three stories below, watching the people hurry by.

Harry had never been an early riser, but thought he'd enjoy that life down there. Heading to the Ministry, to the Auror Office, walking on his own through busy London streets. Dodging the traffic. Grabbing a bite to eat from a stall. Just another anonymous person going to work.

He wondered if Moody had got his owl yet.

The door to the shower opened, and Tonks came out wearing an over-sized black t-shirt and a purple towel wrapped around her hair. She walked back to her room without looking towards Harry and shut the door with a bit more emphasis than was probably necessary.

Harry's head still throbbed, and somewhere in the back of his mind there was an itchy sense of dissatisfaction. Making the decision to walk away from this lunacy was the right one, he was certain of that, but it felt incomplete to leave things this way.

Sighing, he took his breakfast back to the kitchen, cut the sandwich in half, and carried the plate to Tonks's door. He knocked, and heard her voice say, "Come in, Harry."

She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, still in the black shirt, the damp dark spikes of her hair standing up almost fiercely. With the white sheet beneath her, she looked like an ink blot on parchment. In her hand was a photograph.

She looked up as he came in and gave him a hint of a smile. "Wotcher," she said. "Look. I'm... sorry about what I said earlier. You know, telling you to sod off. I just, you know, needed some time." She shrugged.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Sure."

There was a pause, which neither of them seemed to know how to fill, and then Harry held up the plate. "Breakfast?" he asked.

She eyed the offering. "All for me, or are we sharing?"

"If you want it. Just an egg sandwich. Stale bread."

"How tempting." She made another attempt at a smile and said, "Don't tell me you're one of those blokes who can whip up a gourmet meal with half a carton of cream cheese, the last two olives in a jar, and some leftover pot noodles?"

Harry grinned faintly in response as he perched on the edge of the bed and set the plate between them, not exactly happy, but somehow relieved to see that Tonks was still... Tonks.

They each took half a sandwich and ate in what was undeniably an awkward silence. Harry didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound--be--accusing, so he said nothing at all. Tonks looked as if she was working up something, but Harry wasn't in the mood to prompt her. He was fairly sure that whatever it was, he wouldn't want to hear it.

To keep from meeting her eye, Harry looked at her posters, which had been spello-taped with more enthusiasm than skill on the walls around the room. Most of them featured wizard bands, only some of which Harry had heard of, but in a place of pride above her bed was what looked to be a Ministry promotional poster featuring something called the "Auror Code of Conduct." Bold scarlet letters leapt out from a white background. Harry wondered if Moody had given it to her. It seemed like the sort of thing he might consider an appropriate gift.

Glancing down, Harry noticed the photograph that Tonks had been examining lying on the bed. It was a picture of Sirius and Tonks that might have been taken last Christmas. They were mugging for the camera: Sirius was wearing a long red cap that made him look like a rather maniacal Father Christmas, and Tonks had tinsel in her hair.

Following Harry's gaze, Tonks looked down at the picture as well, running her fingertip over Sirius' cap as he laughed silently and gestured to someone unseen.

Harry couldn't help himself. He said, "So, do you think Sirius would have been proud of the way you helped Remus last night?"

Tonks's mouth tightened, but she replied without hesitation, "How about you? Do you think he'd have been proud of you running off to the Department of Mysteries and getting him killed?"

Harry looked at her in shock, hardly believing that he'd heard right. Had her sympathetic manner all this time been only an act? Did she blame him, too? He gritted his teeth and said the words that he'd been repeating to himself for weeks now. "He'd have been proud that I had the courage to do what I thought was right, even if it was wrong."

"Yeah. But you weren't just wrong, Harry. Weren't you stupid, too? And didn't people hurt because of it?"

Harry breathed out through his nose, trying to hold onto his temper. Why was she choosing this moment to attack him like this? Was it just to deflect him from the real topic at hand? "I _know_ I was stupid. That I got people hurt. Got Sirius killed. But it doesn't take away that I was trying to do the right thing."

"Yeah. I agree, Harry," Tonks said with pointed emphasis. "And I think that's the most important thing, don't you?"

There was a long silence while Harry turned over in his mind her obvious message. That she had been trying to do the right thing as well.

"It isn't the same, Tonks. That's... That argument won't work. The decision I made, it was on impulse. I'll regret it forever, but... It's different, what you did. No one in their right mind--"

"Don't. Don't you ever suggest that I'm not thinking straight, because that's all I've bloody well been doing for the past two weeks... And I'm very angry with you right now." Although her words were harsh, but her tone was oddly tentative.

"Oh." Harry laughed mirthlessly. "You are? With _me?_ That's...Well, all I can say is, that's an interesting take on it." He gave a silent huff and shook his head disbelievingly.

Tonks closed her eyes briefly and then opened them, saying tightly. "Don't push me, Harry. I'm trying the best I can in a bad situation, in a situation you made worse than it had to be, and if you knew--"

"That's just it, Tonks, I _don't_ know. I can't begin to imagine what you might say that would make me think anything but what I already do. That you were dead wrong--"

"I agree, Harry. I already said that. I was wrong. I made some mistakes. But what I was trying to do was _right._"

"Oh, of course. You were trying to 'save poor Remus'. Because it's what Sirius would have wanted. I forgot."

"Don't patronize me. I was trying to do a lot more than that. Do you think I would have let Dumbledore bring you here if I'd thought--" Tonks drew a breath. "If I'd known what was going to happen? Every decision is easier in hindsight, Harry, and you have no right to judge me. Now listen to me, because here's what I want you to understand, what I didn't want you to have to know: Remus wasn't like-- the way he's been lately, or at least not nearly as bad, before he found out you were coming to stay here. It was only afterwards."

Harry looked at her, open mouthed. "Well then _why_ didn't you--"

"Just listen, alright? Before you came-- I won't lie to you, Harry. He could be very jealous, get into a temper, so that sometimes... things weren't very good between us. But a few weeks ago, I was close to arranging another place for him stay, so he could move out of here. Emmeline was going to suggest it to him, so it wouldn't seem as if I were chucking him out, you see? Her brother needs a night watchman for his jewelry shop off Diagon Alley, and Remus would've been able to live there. And Emmeline and I-- we had it almost arranged..."

Tonks trailed off and started flicking bread crumbs from the bed with a restless fingers. After a moment, she looked up at Harry and continued. "And then Dumbledore asked me if you could stay with us, so I asked her to hold off."

Tonks looked at Harry, as if waiting for some acknowledgment from him, but he just waited.

Tonks took another deep breath and dragged her hands through the spikes of her hair distractedly. "That's when I bollocksed everything up with my wonderful idea. Because I didn't know then how Remus felt about you. He hates you, Harry. Did you know that? And how could I have guessed something like that? I only thought how wonderful it would be. How I could help both of you. It seemed like a perfect plan."

Harry didn't know what to ask first. "Hates me? But he hardly knows me. And you-- What do you mean help us both?" Harry looked towards the window, where a pale beam of sunshine streamed onto the floor. He felt somewhat at sea with the direction the conversation was taking.

"You see, Harry... The way I looked at it, you two were in the same situation after Sirius died, you and Remus. Both losing someone you loved and depended on. Both of you with no one left. Remus was a right mess after the battle. Well, we all were. But you and Remus had the worst of it, judging from the way you looked at Kings Cross." Tonks leaned forward and waited for Harry to turn back and look at her before continuing. "I thought you could help each other. Bond somehow, you know? Make sort of a- a- family for each other. And the way Sirius tells it, Remus was very close to your mum and dad, so I thought maybe they'd have wanted that, too. Was that so stupid, Harry?"

"No," said Harry slowly. "But the way Remus acted that first day should have told you--"

"Maybe you're right. Or, okay, you _are_ right. But... it took me by surprise. The day before you came, when I told him, he was so angry. I'd never seen him like that. He was pacing around, clutching at his hair, snapping at anything I said. I couldn't understand his reaction. I wondered if he felt as if I was asking him to take Sirius's place with you and was upset over that. I was sure I could talk him round eventually. I'm generally fairly good at doing that with him."

Harry recalled the tea-making and determinedly cheerful chattering that went on after Lupin came back from those meetings with his fellow werewolves and thought he saw what she meant. But still--

"It would never have worked in a million years, Tonks. Lupin and I haven't ever been close. He never got in contact with me after my parents died. Never visited me as a kid at the Dursleys. Never went out of his way to befriend me at Hogwarts, or later at Grimmauld Place. Never tried to tell me about my mum and dad. He's always been remote."

"But I didn't know that. Can't you get that through your head? And I was so pleased with my idea that I didn't want to give up on it, even when it wasn't working. Even when Remus made it so clear that he--" She sighed. "I thought if I just left the two of you together enough. Or if I just reasoned with him enough--"

Harry opened his mouth but Tonks interrupted.

"It was _stupid._ I was _wrong._ I made a _mistake._ How many times do you want to hear it? I should have got you out of here and saved everyone a lot of pain. But I was too stubborn to give up. Too sure I was right. By the time I fully recognized the depth of Remus's hostility towards you, how he goaded you every chance he got, trying to provoke you into doing-- well, what you finally ended up doing... It's you he really wants to hurt, Harry, not me."

She shook her head. "Anyway, by the time I knew it was never going to work out, the end was already in sight. Remus has a job and another place to live, Harry. I'm expecting the owl today from Emmeline confirming it all. So I thought, 'Let's just wait. All we need to do is to stick it just a few more days. Keep Remus happy.' I wanted you to be able to stay here if you wanted to. And you seemed... Well, you seemed like you were handling it up until then, so I thought a day or two wouldn't matter."

Harry thought about all the things that still didn't make sense. Like why Lupin hated him in the first place. And why Tonks had stopped him from dealing with Lupin last night.

Tonks glanced at the clock on her bedside table. "I've got to get ready for work. Can we talk about this more later? I haven't told you all that I think you need to know. I don't deny that I was mistaken, but I meant to do right. Just like you did at the Ministry. I'd like you to think well of me, Harry."

Harry picked up the plate and stood. "To be honest, I don't know what to think anymore, Tonks. I'm still-- I'm not happy about this, there must have been something else you could've done. But can you just tell me why--"

They were interrupted by a series of loud knocks at the flat's front door, and then a voice calling gruffly, "Nymphadora! Are you there? Open up!" Followed by more pounding.

Tonks leapt off the bed, saying, "Merlin's beard! The neighbors will be having fits again. Doesn't he ever sleep?"

She walked to the door, Harry following behind. Instead of opening it at once, Tonks stood off to one side of the doorway and, raising her eyebrows at Harry, called out curtly, "Identify yourself."

Through the door came the growled reply, "Alastor Moody."

"What did I say to you when you warned me off buying milk from the shop on the corner?"

"You called me a 'barmy old codger'."

Muttering, "Close enough," Tonks moved to the front of the door, turned the deadbolt, and opened it. In the doorway, stood a glaring Mad-Eye Moody.

He stumped into the room saying, "Don't just stand there gawking, girl, shut that door and ward it."

After Tonks had closed the door and turned the deadbolt instead, he grunted, "Where's your wand?"

"Uhmm. Under my pillow. Sir." She gave Harry a half-hearted smirk.

"Violation of one of the most basic wand precautions. I've known better witches than you--"

"Stow it, Mad-Eye. I haven't blown my head off yet."

"Always a first time."

"Ever the optimist, aren't you? Must be why I love you," Tonks replied and planted a quick kiss on his battered nose.

"Hmph. Don't be cheeky. And put some clothes on. You're indecent."

Tonks looked down at her t-shirt, which fell to her knees, and rolled her eyes eloquently at Harry, not bothering to hide it from Moody.

"Just on my way to do that. Can't hang about with you lot all morning, anyway. Someone has to protect the world now that the Ministry's only competent Auror has retired." she said, turning around and heading back towards her room. Then she stopped. Turned back. "And why're you here, Mad-Eye? Nothing wrong is there?" she asked, her voice suddenly tense.

Moody caught Harry's eye and seemed to read the request in it, because he answered, "Nothing more wrong than usual. I'm checking up on Potter, here."

When Tonks's bedroom door had shut, Moody fixed Harry with a stare from his real eye while the magical one swiveled to look towards the window and then at the door behind him. "Well, Potter, what's so urgent that you had to send me an owl at the crack of dawn?"

* * *


	7. Ripples in a Pond

_A/N: I appreciate the thoughtful comments on the last chapter. Much of the criticism was helpful, and I do take your suggestions into account in writing this fic._  
_  
This chapter is mostly talking, but I'm setting up for Harry to get a more interesting life, lots more interesting I hope, starting in the next chapter._

* * *

**A "Saving People" Thing**

**Chapter 7. Ripples in a Pond**

"Well," Moody growled when Harry hesitated. "Spit it out, Potter. I don't have all day."

Harry glanced at the closed door to Tonks's room and said, "Er. Sir, could we... Maybe we could take a walk?"

Moody regarded him intently for a moment and then said, "Right."

He stumped over to the window and, raising his wand, cast a series of complex spells, none of which Harry recognized. Given Moody's well-known paranoia, Harry assumed they were warding spells to safeguard the flat. The ex-Auror gave the same treatment to each window in the flat in turn, not neglecting the small square one in the shower that wouldn't have been large enough to admit a house-elf.

"Mr. Moody, is there any news of Voldemort? Anything to--"

"No direct indications that he's back besides the sighting at the Ministry last month," Moody answered, continuing his spell work. "But the Dementors defected from Azkaban to join him, you've heard that. The fogs. Chilly weather. That's them. And there have been some suspicious activities that Albus and I..."

When Moody moved into Harry's room, he trailed off, halting just inside the door. He was peering down at a dark spot on the floor.

"Blood," he remarked conversationally.

"Um. Yes, sir."

"Whose?"

Harry didn't answer. He had a feeling this was definitely not a conversation he wanted to start with Tonks still inside the flat.

Moody look up and fixed Harry with a sharp stare. "This what you were planning to talk to me about?"

Harry nodded.

Moody said nothing more, but moved to Harry's window to ward it as well.

Coming back into the main room, Moody barked towards Tonks's door, "Nymphadora. Re-ward your window and the door on your way out. Your deflection charms are wearing off. Vigilance!"

Through the door, came Tonks's patient, "Right, Mad-Eye. Will do."

"I'm taking Harry with me." Moody was already moving toward the door.

"Just bring him back in one piece, alright? Otherwise, Dumbledore'll hex me into next week," Tonks called. "And Harry, I'm on double shift today. Don't wait up. And happy birthday!"

With one last gruff warning to Tonks to watch her back_,_ Moody led Harry out of the flat.

Harry had completely forgotten that the day was his birthday. He also realized that he hadn't told Tonks he wouldn't be staying at the flat anymore. He'd have to leave her a note sometime today or owl her. Probably best to figure out where he'd actually be living before worrying about that, though.

"Wait." Moody stopped Harry on the landing with a heavy hand on his shoulder.

He pulled a pair of out-sized sunglasses from the pocket of his cloak and put them on, covering his magical eye. The mirrored lenses reflected a double image of Harry's open-mouthed stare.

Moody grunted. "Gift from Nymphadora. Said they'd blend in better with the Muggles than the hat I used to wear."

Remembering Moody's lime green bowler, Harry thought this might possibly be true. But not by much. In combination, the sunglasses and dark brown cloak gave Moody a resemblance to a crazed grizzly bear.

As the man seemed to be waiting for a response, however, Harry replied tactfully, "Yeah. They look-- It's a good look on you, sir."

They descended the stairs in silence and walked through the lobby, where Moody gave the rather startled-looking porter a pointed command to renew the Muggle Concealment charms around the outside of the building.

Once they were on the pavement, Moody turned not towards the Leaky Cauldron, the direction that Harry and Lupin normally took, but instead in the direction that led them deeper into the heart of London. The earlier sun had given way to a clammy mist that might have been Dementors or merely London fog.

Harry hadn't thought of exactly what he would say now that he had Moody's attention. He decided to buy time by asking something else that was very much on his mind.

"Could you tell me more about what's happening now, sir? Professor Dumbledore hasn't had time to fill me in since..." _Sirius died_.

"Hm. What do you know already, son?" Moody asked.

"All I know is what I've been reading in the _Daily Prophet_," Harry replied bitterly. "Tonks and Lupin said there hasn't been a full meeting of the Order in a long while, now that Headquarters has been lost. I know Lupin is working with foreign contacts and with the werewolves, and that Tonks is smuggling copies of confidential Auror documents to Professor Dumbledore. I thought you might know more than they do about what's going on elsewhere."

As they walked along the pavement, Moody gave a terse summary of how the Order and the Ministry had been occupying themselves since the battle at the Department of Mysteries in June. Speaking in a quiet growl, he described the Ministry's watch over the Muggle Prime Minister, headed by Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the network within Muggle law enforcement that the Order had set up.

"It happened all the time in the first war, Potter. Attacks on non-Magical folk. This network ought to help us respond faster, get on the track of the perpetrators. We'll know about an incident as soon their own law enforcement does instead of having to wait to hear a report on the Muggle wireless."

In answer to Harry's question, Moody told him what had happened to the Death Eaters who'd been captured at the Department of Mysteries, and what progress had been made in tracking down those of Voldemort's followers who hadn't been present at the battle at the Ministry.

"And Bellatrix Lestrange, has she been sighted?" Harry asked, thinking how much he'd like to have a role in capturing his godfather's killer.

"Not a sign, yet. Don't hold your breath."

An all-to-familiar resentment was starting to creep up on Harry, as it did anytime he allowed himself to think about the threat facing them and his own marginal role in the fight. The enforced powerlessness was smothering him. He deserved to be in on this.

He set his jaw and took the plunge. "Sir, I want to do something. I _need_ to do something. I can't keep sitting on the sidelines while--"

"You know that Albus--" Moody started to say.

"Yes, sir. I already _know _what Professor Dumbledore wants. He told me about the prophecy after what happened last month. I know he wants to keep me safe so that I can fight Voldemort when I'm better prepared. But _now_--"

"Albus--"

Again Harry interrupted. "He doesn't _understand,_ Mr. Moody, " he said fiercely. "He doesn't understand that he can't keep me out of this, not when so much needs to be done. And if he won't give me work to do, I'll--"

"_Enough,_ Potter." Moody didn't raise his voice, but the emphasis was enough to check the flow of Harry's words.

"I was going to say that Albus and I disagree," Moody told him. "I believe you're capable of contributing, being part of the team. Don't know what the future holds, lad, or whether you'll get your wish to fight Voldemort someday. Albus is the one who thinks long term. What I say is that _right now_ we're going to need every wand we can gather to our side. Bad times are coming. Bad times are here. The signs are all over, just like in the first war."

A weight lifted from Harry's chest for the first time since he'd seen Sirius fall through the veil. "What can I do, sir?"

"I've been thinking about that, but it's going to take me some time. You stood up against Death Eaters more than once, Potter. No one's questioning your courage, but your fighting skills need more work. You're no good to us dead. Patience."

They walked for several minutes in silence, as Harry's mind turned over the various possibilities that Moody's words had suggested to him.

Then Moody said abruptly, "Well?"

And Harry knew that he was being prompted again for an explanation of his early-morning owl to Moody, and of the blood on his floor. He found himself still uncertain about how to begin, finally deciding on, "Mr. Moody, what do you know about Lupin?"

If Moody was surprised at the introduction of Lupin's name, he didn't show it, merely answering briefly, "Worked with him in the first war. Good man to have watching your back. Knows his way around the major hexes."

Harry responded with a noncommittal, "Hm."

They walked a few more paces, and Moody said, "Don't know what Nymphadora thought she was about, though, taking up with a werewolf." He seemed reluctant to criticize his protege, but added, "She's kept it quiet with the Ministry so far, but if Scrimgeour ever hears about it... Hmph."

Harry thought about that for a moment, never having considered that she ran a career risk from associating with a Dark creature, and then asked, "Have you ever talked to her about him?"

The ex-Auror let out an uncharacteristic snort and started to say, "You've got a lot to learn, lad, if you think she'd listen to an--" but broke off when he saw Harry's expression.

They walked a few more paces and then Moody slowed down and finally stopped on the pavement. Ignoring the passersby swerving around them impatiently, he gave Harry an assessing look. At least, Harry thought it was. It was hard to tell behind those glasses; in some ways, they were more disconcerting than the magical eye.

Across the street was one of London's large city parks. St. James Park, Harry thought it was called. Moody jerked his head towards a path that led into the greenery. "Follow me."

They crossed the road, and Moody took them to the edge of a long pond smelling of weeds and ducks, beside which were several benches, all empty. The area had the advantage of being off the main path and reasonably secluded from casual walkers.

For a moment, the older man stood still, and Harry guessed he was using his eye to check for assassins, or Death Eaters, or mad squirrels, or whatever it was that Moody was ever-vigilant about. When he seemed satisfied that they were alone, Moody lowered himself slowly onto the bench and massaged the stump of his leg above the wooden peg.

"Let's hear it, Potter."

Whether from the shade of the trees or the Dementors, the chill seemed worse here. Harry stood for a moment watching a pair of mallards diving into the weeds at the far end of the pond before sitting down on the bench next to Moody. He looked down at his hands, squeezed them shut in his lap, and read the scarred message, "I must not tell lies."

Harry started to speak. Beginning with his arrival at Tonks's doorstep with Dumbledore two weeks before, he told the quiet figure beside him everything he'd heard, everything he'd seen, and everything he'd guessed. Keeping his eyes on his hands, he described the events of last night. As he did so, Harry felt the anger welling up again, making his stomach clench.

Moody listened to him in silence.

When Harry was done, he paused and considered, and then decided it was only fair to tell Moody what Tonks had offered in the way of explanation that morning as well. That accomplished, he turned to look at Moody for the first time since he'd begun talking. The old man was perfectly still. Although his face was impassive behind the sunglasses, Harry had the impression that he was thinking hard.

Unable to stay still any longer, Harry rose from the bench, scooped a handful of gray pebbles from the path, and began skimming them across the pond one by one. He watched them skitter over the surface and then sink, leaving an expanding green ripple in the stagnant water.

After a few minutes, he heard the crunch of a limping step on the path behind him, and then came Moody's gravelly voice. "I'll sort him out."

Harry waited, but that seemed to be all the man was going to say. After a moment, Harry said, "Yes, sir."

"Call me, Moody, Potter. Moody to my face and Mad-Eye behind my back. Everyone does."

"Alright, s- Er. Right. Thanks."

Harry considered asking Moody what he was going to do, or even volunteering to come with him, but something about the ex-Auror's manner told him that he'd only be rebuffed. But there was one thing he had to ask.

"And... don't you think you ought talk to Tonks, as well?"

"We'll see about that," said Moody. His tone indicated that whatever he might say to Tonks was none of Harry's business. "I have some questions for you. She Rennervated him?"

"Yeah! And then he--"

"I heard you the first time, Potter." Moody sucked at his teeth. "For someone unconscious from a head wound, you need to Rennervate to make the healing spells fully functional. And she didn't tie him up first?"

"No. I told her to, but--"

"Did she have any reason to believe he would attack either one of you when he woke?" Moody's voice had taken on the clipped, authoritative tones of an interrogation.

"Of course! If you'd seen how he looked--"

Moody overrode him. "You hit him first?"

Harry found himself growing irritated by the direction Moody was heading. "Well, yes, but he was going to--"

"Did he make any verbal threats to you?"

"Not directly, no." Harry responded heatedly, "But it was obvious from the way he was looking at--"

"Had he ever attacked you in the past? Hexes? Physical violence? Either threatened or actually committed?"

"No, not to me, but--"

"Did Nymphadora ask you to help her? Indicate that she felt threatened in any way?"

"No," Harry answered through clenched teeth.

"So, you attacked him with no apparent provocation, injuring him, possibly severely."

"But... but..." Harry found himself sputtering. "That's ridiculous. Moody, you weren't there, you didn't see--"

"Oh, I believe you, Potter. Not saying I don't. But from a purely legal aspect, if he'd died or been severely injured, Nymphadora was right in saying you'd have been the one explaining things in front of the Wizengamot. Of course, the Ministry probably wouldn't let that happen to you now, especially when your victim was a werewolf--

"My _victim?_"

"Legally speaking, your victim, Potter. I told you I believe you. Don't make me repeat myself. As I was saying, seeing that you've been reinstated as the Boy-Who-Lived in the public eye, you wouldn't have been prosecuted. As for her decision to heal and Rennervate him, I agree with it. As for not restraining him first," Moody went on with a deep frown, "I've never been one to second guess my Aurors in the field, but I'll be giving Nymphadora a piece of my mind on that. And that's all I have to say about her to you."

Harry was dumbstruck. "A piece of your mind? Just, a piece of your mind? You've got to convince her of how stupid she's been, so she won't-- I mean, if he should come back--"

"He won't," Moody answered shortly. "I said I'd sort him out, lad. I will."

"But--"

"Listen to me, Potter. I trained Aurors for over 40 years. It isn't primary school. When you have a decision to make with too little information or too little time, you go with your gut instinct. The Hufflepuff instinct isn't yours or mine. For them, it's all filtered through loyalty, trust, personal obligation. I don't agree with her threat assessment on Lupin, nor understand why she's been protecting him, clouded judgment there, but--" Moody cut himself off, clearly not wanting to discuss Tonks with Harry.

Harry thought of pointing out that he felt all those things, too, loyalty and all, that it wasn't just Hufflepuffs, but what was the point of arguing? However, he couldn't stop himself saying, "He was _obviously_ a threat--"

Moody interrupted him again. "I believe you, and that's the last time I'm telling you, Potter. You want to be an Auror someday? Then know this: Mistakes happen. You learn from them. You move past them. Blame gets in the way of assessing a situation and dealing with it. You might even make a mistake or two yourself someday. Everyone else does. Accept that, or you won't last long."

Harry could see why Moody commanded such respect among his former colleagues, but he was left with a feeling of dissatisfaction instead of the relief he'd expected in handing this situation off.

He knew he could rely on Moody to "sort out" Lupin, but if he was honest, he'd hoped for something more: an explicit commendation for his own actions, perhaps, or condemnation of Tonks's. He wanted Moody, or someone, to agree to _force _her to understand how wrong she'd been acting. But maybe that was expecting too much of anyone.

Moody pulled a battered watch from his pocket and held it at arm's length to check the time. Snapping it shut, he said gruffly, "I'm meeting with Albus soon."

Harry followed Moody rather resentfully along the path, wishing he could be left alone with his thoughts for a few minutes. "I'll take you back now, get you a bite to eat first. You look as if you could do with it. You've been living on pizza and crisps, if I know Nym--"

Moody stopped speaking as a silvery lynx, a Patronus, wove its way through the trees and moved in front of them, pacing to left and right across the path.

The deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt emerged from the shimmering form, saying, "Moody, a report has come in that Muggle law enforcement have just arrived at Emmeline Vance's townhouse. The Ministry have been notified and MLE should be on their way any minute."

The Patronus faded and disappeared.

Looking grim, Moody pulled off his sunglasses. He stowed them in his pocket, took out his wand, and turned towards Harry. Harry had the impression that the man wasn't actually seeing him, but was instead working his way through some rapid mental calculations.

Harry watched, mystified, as Moody did an odd thing: He pulled a large leaf from the plane tree beside them and tapped it with his wand, transfiguring it into a brown paper bag. Flattening and then folding the bag roughly with his gnarled hands, he handed it to Harry.

"Keep this with you," he growled. "I don't have time to Side-Along you to Nymphadora's and then get you through the wards into the flat. You'll have to come with me. Keep quiet. Don't get in the way. Don't touch anything. Don't do anything unless I tell you to."

Harry stowed the bag in his pocket, trying to get a handle on the implications of this sudden news. Emmeline Vance's townhouse? Police? The set expression on Moody's face was the look of a man who suspected something serious. Had someone broken in? Death Eaters? Vance was part of the Order. Had she been holding something for them? Had it been stolen? Had she been hurt or kidnapped? Could she be dead?

His speculations were interrupted by Moody's hand clamping like a vise on his forearm and the barked order, "Hold tight, Potter. Apparating now."

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_A/N added later, in response to early review comments on this chapter: Yes, this is an H/T story, and Harry and Tonks will get together as soon as I can manage it; no, I'm not going to shuffle Lupin off camera at this point with no resolution; you'll see him what happens with him soon, but I don't want to spoil the surprise._


	8. Expect the Unexpected

_A/N: I appreciate the time that many of you have taken to leave such lengthy reviews. They've helped me a great deal._

_Anonymous **Dan**: Your speculations about Moody's motivations are similar to my own take on it. I intend to make that clearer in later chapters._

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**A "Saving People" Thing**

**Chapter 8. Expect the Unexpected**

Harry held Moody's arm as the ex-Auror pivoted, turning them both in place. As had happened with Dumbledore a few weeks ago, Harry felt himself squeezed within the invisible grip of Apparition, his chest constricting so tightly that he found it hard to draw breath. As the pathway beneath his feet abruptly fell away, he tightened his hold to keep himself from being ripped away from the other man.

And then, just as suddenly, they were back on solid ground again.

Harry found himself once more in an alleyway, and once more his companion was heading away from him towards the street; indeed, Moody was exhibiting a rapidity of movement that Harry wouldn't have guessed he was capable of. Harry shook off his momentary disorientation and followed him, lengthening his stride as they moved out of the alley and began to weave their way purposefully through the morning crowd on the pavement.

Moody apparently knew the way to Emmeline Vance's residence, because he didn't pause as he navigated around corners and across streets into the winding streets of inner London. After about five minutes, they arrived at a side street lined with high, narrow townhouses. About half-way along the street, Moody stopped.

In front of them was a panda car parked in front of a stucco-faced house. With its green-painted door, polished brass door knocker, and tiny fenced garden, it was nearly identical to the half-dozen residences on each side of it.

There was no sign of a Wizarding presence here, but there were several Muggles going about their morning tasks: sweeping walks, dropping letters into the post box, heading to the bus stop on the corner, and more than a few loitering in curiosity near the police car. Without hesitation, Moody drew his wand in full view of the Muggles and began casting silent spells, pointing towards the car, the house, the neighboring houses--all over the square, in fact.

Harry hadn't any clue what the spells were and didn't ask as Moody had specifically ordered him to keep quiet. For something to do, he pulled the bag he'd been given from his pocket and looked at it over. Moody's magical eye swiveled in his direction. Without stopping his spell work, the older man grunted, "If you're going to be sick, use it. Protect the evidence."

Harry stowed the bag away again, feeling the first tickle of real apprehension in his stomach.

The people who had been outdoors along the street had all begun to wander vaguely away towards the main road or into their houses. Harry could see the twitch of curtains as drapes were pulled shut in nearby houses. With one last swath of spells along the rooftops overhead, Moody lowered his wand and looked around.

Seemingly satisfied with his work, Moody made for the steps of the house that Harry assumed was Vance's. The front door was slightly ajar. The old man nudged it further open with his wooden leg and clumped into a dim hallway in which stood two police constables.

"Oi! You can't come in 'ere!" one of the constables said to them, starting forward.

Moody raised his wand and cast Confundus twice in quick succession. He walked up to the befuddled-looking men and tapped one of them on the chest with a thick finger, saying, "Why're you here?"

The constable answered, "Resident didn't answer her door to her daily help, who reported it to the watchman on the corner. When we checked with the neighbors, they reported hearing strange noises last night."

Moody's mouth tightened to a hard line. "Get back to your headquarters. Both of you. Tell everyone it was a false alarm. Nothing wrong here."

Both of the men nodded somewhat absently and made their way to the front door. When they had gone, Moody waved his wand, shutting the door and presumably securing it with a nonverbal spell; the gloom in the hallway deepened. The only sound was the steady ticking of a clock at the end of the hall that seemed to Harry far too loud in the absolute quiet that now surrounded them.

"Right, Potter," Moody said to him in a quiet growl. "If the neighbors heard noises last night, likely whoever made 'em is long gone. Still, best not to take chances. Wand out. Don't touch anything. If you see anyone, anyone at all, stun first and ask questions later."

With wands raised, Moody and Harry moved along the weakly lit corridor.

One by one, they checked the ground floor rooms, which all opened off the central hall. With an air of long practice, Moody turned his magical eye on each chamber to detect whatever he was able to; in every case, he appeared to find nothing unusual. Motioning Harry to stand at the opposite side of each door frame, he would cast a glowing net across the doorway and then open it.

Harry kept his wand at the ready, poised to stun anything that moved. But nothing ever did. They found no sign of disturbance anywhere.

Some instinct within Harry found this far from reassuring, and his wariness increased in inverse proportion to the space remaining to be investigated. Logically, it could have been any empty house, with its occupants off to work or shopping, but for an oppressive feeling that seemed to grow heavier with each room they visited.

In the quiet, the only sounds Harry could hear were his own breath, determinedly regular, and that of the clock that they gradually neared at the end of the hall. Despite being on edge, or possibly because of it, he felt unnaturally alert and his wand hand was steady.

Finally, they reached the end of the hall and stood at the last door before the stairway.

It was shut.

Harry swallowed against a sudden tightness in his throat and moved without prompting to the far side of the door frame. He held his wand in a secure grip, and then raised it with a glance at Moody to signal that he was ready. With a sharp flick of his wand, Moody cast his net across the doorway and then swung the door open wide.

They waited.

As before, nothing moved. No one came out.

As they had done a half-dozen times before, Moody took down his barrier, and he and Harry edged cautiously into the room, their backs to the walls on each side of the door. It was darker in here; the drapes on the window opposite were drawn, and only a thin sliver of daylight shone through.

Moody lit his wand, nodding to Harry to do the same, and the warm glow from the tips of their wands revealed... Nothing at all.

As with the other rooms, this one seemed quite untouched. However, Moody began walking the room's perimeter, examining it for any sign of disturbance, and Harry did the same starting in the opposite direction. When Moody reached the drapes, he looked them over carefully with the illumination from his wand, and then opened them, flooding the room with morning light.

In the brightness, the room was revealed as a sort of library or study. There were bookshelves along one wall filled with leather and cloth bound volumes. A desk stood near the window: orderly stacks of parchment, an inkwell and quill, a silver-framed wizarding photograph.

In the corner near the door was an easy chair with a small table standing beside it.

The chair appeared to be well used: its velvet upholstery was worn in spots, and the seat cushion sagged comfortably. A small book rested in the narrow space between the cushion and the arm of the chair, as if it had slipped there when its owner had risen. On the small table, a pair of reading glasses lay next to a china teacup.

It was then that both Harry and Moody spotted the same thing: A small lamp, apparently from the table, lay overturned on the floor, half hidden behind the chair.

For the first time since they began their search of the house, Moody spoke, although his comment was only a rumbling, "Hmmm."

They walked to the chair. Moody knelt down to peer at the lamp while Harry, mindful of Moody's admonition not to touch anything, stood over him, wand still raised. Harry tilted his head to look at the spine of the book, but the gold lettering was too worn to read.

He transferred his gaze to the table, where everything looked so normal, so innocent of danger. Eyeglasses folded and set aside. Teacup on its saucer--

"Moody!"

The ex-Auror looked up at Harry's sharp whisper.

"The teacup," Harry said tightly. "In... in the teacup."

The old man rose and looked into the cup for a long moment. Then he pointed his wand at it and murmured a series of spells before deciding it was safe to pick up. Pulling a handkerchief from his cloak pocket, Moody up-ended the teacup's contents onto it.

Resting on the white cloth was a finger. A finger that, except for its torn and bloody end, looked almost natural lying there: slim and elegant, curving gently to end in a delicate, buffed nail.

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking away for a minute. He was reminded, strangely, of Peter Pettigrew. How he'd cut off his own finger to fake his death. How that had been all they'd found of him. Somehow, he didn't think Emmeline Vance had removed her own finger. And... it didn't look as if it had been cut off neatly.

When he turned back, Moody had wrapped the finger in his handkerchief and was stowing it carefully in the inside pocket of his cloak. When he noticed Harry observing him, he said in a curt voice, "Look for blood, son. Doesn't matter how little. Be quick about it."

Together, the searched the area around the chair and table until Harry found a small dark spot on the arm of the chair.

With a grim smile, Moody touched his wand tip to the stain, and Harry watched in fascination as the blood began to glisten and grow jewel bright. Then a shimmering line of light snaked out of it and trickled like a rivulet of water onto the floor, where it hit another spot of blood that was hidden in the ornate pattern of the carpet. The second stain brightened as the first had, and again a light snaked out to find the next droplet in the trail.

The two of them followed this glimmering path as it led back towards the doorway. Moody, keeping his wand pointed at the line of light, led the way out of the room and towards the back stairs. Together, they watched the glowing trail climb up the polished oak steps to the first floor.

With a quick look at the front door of the townhouse, Moody growled, "Enforcement will be here soon. Up we go, Potter."

Although Moody seemed to be checking with his magical eye as they climbed, his caution no longer seemed as extreme as it had been earlier. He explained to Harry, "What they did to her, it was hours ago. That finger. They're long gone by now, and we need to get to her before MLE does."

They continued up the stairs, and then up another flight. From the way the other man was talking, Harry was left in no doubt what Moody expected to find when they reached the place where the blood spots ended, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes when Moody finally swing open one of the doors on the second floor.

The room was a large bedroom facing the front of the house. The drapes were wide open and the milk-white light of the foggy morning spilled into the room and over the debris that littered the floor. The room itself had been torn apart: The bed coverings pushed aside, mattress ripped open, bedside table overturned, dressing table with gaping drawers and smashed mirror, cupboard thrown open and garments strewn about as if they had been caught in a hurricane.

In the midst of this chaos, it would have been almost easy to overlook Emmeline. She might have been simply another piece of clothing crumpled on the floor had it not been for her long silver hair glinting against the deep red of her shirt. No, not her shirt. _Blood,_ Harry realized. Everything he was seeing was blood, not red cloth.

She lay on her side, curled into a protective ball with arms clutched around her waist if she were trying to hold her life inside her.

Her throat had been cut.

All this, Harry saw from the door. Moody clapped him on the shoulder and said with gruff gentleness, "You don't have to come in."

Harry thought about that. How Moody hadn't ordered him to stay out, but had left it up to him. And part of him wanted to stay with Moody. Horrific as the scene was, he had a sense that it would be a mark of disrespect to turn away from Emmeline Vance, to shun her as if her presence disgusted him because of what had been done to her. But at the same time, he felt clammy and ill, and he thought that the faint coppery tang that hung in the air was probably her blood.

He couldn't bring himself to come closer, but he stood stiffly in the doorway.

He watched Moody step carefully through the debris on the floor until he was at her side. The old man let out a slow breath of air. "Well, Emmie," he said, in a tone he might have used at an Order meeting. "He caught up with you at last."

Harry wondered how well Moody had known Emmeline Vance. From his manner, it was hard to tell. He didn't exude an air of grief or distress, but from the tender way that Moody touched her now, Harry thought there must be something between them, even if it was only their shared past in the first war against Voldemort.

Moody lifted first one and then the other of Emmeline's hands, and it was with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that Harry saw that she had no fingers at all. That she'd not only been murdered, but had been tortured at length, her fingers ripped off one by one, and... who could guess what else she might have endured before she died?

_Death Eaters,_ Harry thought with a surge of revulsion so strong he wondered how he could contain it. Who else would be capable of atrocities like this? And... Had they tortured her simply for the fun of it? Did they do that sort of thing? Or had it been for a purpose? Did they know she was in the Order? Judging from the state of the room, they'd been looking for something they expected to find in here. Had they found it? Had Emmeline told them what they wanted to know before she died?

Even as he asked himself these questions, Harry saw Moody straighten and move over to the bed. He gave three quick taps of his wand against the headboard. A small glass vial materialized in the air, hovering before Moody. It was filled with the swirling silver gas that Harry recognized as a memory, like the one he'd seen in the Dumbledore's Pensieve. _Emmeline's memory? Or one she was guarding for someone else?_ he wondered. Was that what the Death Eaters had been looking for?

Moody pocketed the vial and turned around to him. Giving Harry a quick once-over, the ex-Auror said curtly, "You need a breath of air, Potter. Get one. MLE will be here soon, and I don't have time to waste. They'll see my mark on the door, so if you don't point your wand at them, they probably won't use you for target practice. Get out of here and _don't touch anything._"

With that dismissal, he turned back to Emmeline.

Harry backed out of the doorway and looked toward the stairwell they had come up. He felt hot and chilled at the same time, and when he swiped his hand over his sweating face, he saw that it was shaking. He'd kept his wand steady in the tension leading up to this moment, but now that it was over, now that the worst had come, he couldn't seem to stop the tremors.

Harry swallowed heavily and leaned his forehead against the cool wall of the hall. He took a few deep breaths.

It was over now: The house no longer felt oppressive. Even with his own presence here, and Moody's, it felt empty. Abandoned. There was nothing left for him to do here, if there ever had been. Harry considered putting his wand away, but Moody hadn't specifically told him to, so instead he tightened his hand around it and wished that he'd been given a chance, just _one chance_, to use it, instead of simply waving it around like a stupid toy.

From somewhere behind him, a cool breeze tickled the back of his neck, and he turned. At the end of the corridor, there was one last staircase, rickety and narrow, that led to the top floor. Harry supposed that the current was coming from an open window above him. He decided to go upstairs for his breath of air instead of down.

The house was devoid of all threat now; somehow he felt certain that he'd be sensing... _something_ if that weren't the case. Even so, Harry was mindful of the constant vigilance Moody expected of everyone around him and mounted the stairs cautiously, wand aloft. The top of the stairs ended in a large room with a sharply slanted ceiling that stretched the length of the house; a sort of loft or attic, he supposed.

The room was bare and unused. Nothing was disturbed here except the dust that eddied in the air.

Two tall dormer windows were set into the low ceiling. One of them was ajar, letting in the breeze that Harry had felt. Harry blinked. For a moment, he thought he'd seen movement outside the window. Just a flutter of black, a crow or something, and yet...

The possibility of danger trailed like an icy finger down Harry's spine. Could someone--a Death Eater?--have remained here all this time? It seemed unlikely, more than unlikely: why wouldn't they have Apparated away? Unless... could there be barrier spells on the house to prevent that? Did they need to gain the roof to Apparate away? The why hadn't they already? These less-that-possibilities flitted across his mind while simultaneously a loud internal voice insisted that he go back and fetch Moody.

But if there was to be any chance, no matter how small, of a capture, there was no time for Moody.

Even as he continued to think it through--if this jumble of apprehension and unfocused urgency rocketing through his brain could be called thinking--he moved, without conscious thought, closer to the window. Carefully, Harry poked his head out far enough to see that... well, that there wasn't anything to see. But as with their investigation of the ground floor earlier, seeing nothing was far from reassuring.

A raven hopping away from him and cawing in alarm: now _that_ would have been reassuring. But finding nothing only meant... to look harder.

His heart was thudding in his ears as he crept through the window and out onto the iron-fenced parapet that surrounded the house. Near him, metal bars set into the sloping side of the roof made a ladder that led up to the flat rooftop a half dozen feet above. Harry walked the entire perimeter of the parapet, alert for any motion or noise. He came up blank.

Harry glanced down. The street below him was empty, probably the continuing effect of the spells Moody had cast before they had entered the house.

_This is definitely not what Moody meant by a "breath of air," _Harry thought with a grimace.

There was nothing for it now but to look on the rooftop proper. Probably futile. Probably there was no one. And if there had been, they'd have Apparated away by now. This was what Harry told himself, but somehow it wasn't what he hoped.

Taking hold of the metal ladder with one hand, he ascended. He held his wand aloft with the other hand, ready to stun first and ask questions later, as Moody had put it. But if someone was up here, questions would be unnecessary, wouldn't they? How could anyone explain away skulking on the roof of a murdered woman's house?

When Harry gained the roof, he looked across the empty expanse of gray slate and saw no movement. His view was completely unobstructed save for a large brick chimney set near the roof's center. It was, Harry decided, just wide enough to conceal a man on the other side. If someone was hiding, that was where he was.

Harry gnawed at dry lips. In his mind, he was sure there could be no one here. He'd seen _essentially_ nothing. He'd heard _actually_ nothing. But some instinct screamed the opposite, caused the hair to rise on the back of his neck, just as it had last night with Lupin. He had to trust his gut, the way Moody had said, he decided. If he was wrong, if he jumped around that chimney and no one was there... well, there'd be no one to be embarrassed about it but himself.

He started forward, slowly, shifting his weight carefully onto each foot as he moved, making no sound. Harry glanced up at his wand, poised to strike. His hand was no longer shaking, and he sent up a small prayer of thanks for that much.

When he was about five feet from the chimney, he stopped and deliberated his next move. The scene with Lupin last night was still fresh in his mind. His regret at rushing in without thought, and at being taunted into doing it, still rankled.

He told himself again, as he had that morning, _Think. Make a plan_.

Should he incapacitate his opponent first and then disarm him? Or the other way around? At this distance, even if his opponent were wandless, he might simply charge him, make a physical attack. That meant... incapacitating first. Or moving further back? But that increased the risk of missing with his first spell, so probably not. Then... how to incapacitate? Stunning? Binding? Impediment? Petrifying? Harry had read in his defense books that most jinxes were quick to cast but were among the easiest offensive spells to shield against, so if the other man defended quickly, that could mean trouble.

As these possibilities tumbled over each other in his brain, Harry's frustration rose. He mentally cursed the lack of time that kept him from analyzing the situation from every angle, and the lack of experience that kept him from even recognizing what the angles were.

The one thing Harry knew was that his biggest advantage lay in surprise. The odds were in his favor already, and greatly in his favor if his first attack was a decisive one. But without experience, without practical knowledge, it was hard to know just what attack would be effective, and he felt this lack keenly. Incarcerous, he finally decided. Bind him. Then disarm him. Just like he'd planned for Lupin that morning.

And after that... well, cross that bridge later.

Without further thinking, Harry moved around the chimney with a quick lunge, his voice already crying out, "_Incarcerous!_" as he pointed his wand at the dark cloaked man crouched there.

The man--and now that it had happened, Harry felt no surprise at all in discovering him--reacted more quickly than Harry had anticipated. He rolled away so that the binding ropes of the hex caught only his legs. His opponent lay was flat on his stomach, legs bound, twisting to point his wand at Harry.

Without thinking, Harry ran forward and kicked at the man's hand, disposing of the wand far more quickly than he could have by casting an Expelliarmus. It skittered across the slate tiles before rolling to a stop near the edge of the roof.

The man's hand reached out and closed around Harry's ankle, jerking hard enough to overbalance him. Harry landed with a heavy thud on the ground. He kicked out dislodging the man's hand and then connecting with something soft. The man's answering yelp gave Harry a moment of savage satisfaction. He wanted to make Emmeline's killer suffer.

Harry kicked again, and then again, relishing the grunts of pain that he heard, but as the man's hand groped out for his ankle again he pulled back, realizing that he had to finish the binding spell. Harry cast a second Incarcerous, which this time tied the man from shoulders to ankles in tight white ropes.

Harry shoved his wand in his back pocket and crouched over the bound man. Grabbing him by the hair, Harry yanked his head up forcefully so he could look him in the face. Two pairs of shocked eyes stared at each other.

"Harry," it was Lupin's hoarse voice.

"You--" Without thinking, Harry's grasp tightened in Lupin's sandy gray hair and he banged the man's head hard against the slate before roughly turning him onto his back.

"You-- you killed her!" Harry cried, "Murderer! You--"

"No--!" But before Lupin could say anything else, Harry balled up his fist and punched him as hard as he could.

"Fuck!" Lupin said indistinctly, twisting his head, trying to pull away from Harry's grip on his hair. "Harry, I'm tied up, you don't need to--"

_Smack._ Harry's fist hit him again.

"_Stop!_" Lupin grunted in injury and surprise, and then went on rapidly, "Harry, listen to me. I didn't do anything to Emmie. She was already--"

Harry hit him again, and it felt... He wondered vaguely if he'd ever stop now that he'd started.

"I-- I'm fucking bound already." Lupin ground out between clenched teeth. "And you shouldn't-- This isn't--"

Lupin stopped speaking and gave another twisting lurch as he tried to roll away.

"This isn't what?" Harry asked, pausing as Lupin's words filtered through to him. "Oh... You think... You think this isn't _fair_? Was that what you were going to say? That I should play _fair_? That I shouldn't hit you when you're at a disadvantage? Is that it?" Harry stopped to take a breath and realized he was yelling.

Harry had his arm pulled back again, glaring into Lupin's bloody, angry face, when he heard something behind him.

He and Lupin both looked towards the sound.

It was Moody on the metal ladder. His head appeared at the level of the rooftop.

"Potter! Where have you--"

The man froze, taking in the scene in front of him, and then he said, "Ah." For the briefest moment, his stony face held a look of surprise, which was a first as far as Harry was concerned.

Moody laboriously made his way up the ladder and limped over to the two of them. He stared down at Lupin's battered face, and then at Harry's hand, still clutched in Lupin's hair.

Lupin immediately began talking.

"You know I didn't do this, Alastor. I'd never-- Emmie's one of us, and I've-- We go back to the first war, for Merlin's sake, you _know _that." He made another unsuccessful attempt to pull away from Harry's grip on him, before going on. "I came in. The front door was ajar, and I thought-- of course that was unexpected given the circumstances, but-- but she knew I was coming this morning. Dora..."

He trailed off, seemingly put off by the forbidding look on Moody's face. Lupin swallowed and went on rather desperately, "I found her, and then I heard the Muggle police come in, so I went up to the roof, thought I might be able to get out of the anti-Apparition field on the house, but I still couldn't--

Moody spoke for the first time, and his voice was quiet. "I cast anti-Apparition spells over this entire street when I got here, Lupin. Standard procedure. Good to follow procedure, don't you think?"

Lupin stared at him for a moment, as if waiting for something more, but when Moody didn't speak, he went on in a carefully reasonable tone, "She's been dead for hours, you must have seen that. I was here this morning for a _job._ That's _all_. With Emmeline's brother. I wasn't here last night, just ask Dora--"

"I don't think you want to talk to me about Nymphadora, Lupin," Moody replied.

Lupin stopped abruptly. His eyes flicked from Moody to Harry and then back to Moody.

Harry's hand had tightened unconsciously on his hair again, and Lupin winced as he licked his lips. "Alastor, I don't know what stories Harry here has been telling you, but..."

In answer, Moody twitched his wand, and the ropes on Lupin tightened more securely. When he spoke, it was to Harry that he addressed himself.

"His wand?"

Harry tilted his head at the wand on the other side of the roof. Moody Summoned it, slipping it into his cloak pocket. Then, he bent down and appeared to double check the bindings from the Incarcerous. He grunted his approval and straightened, turning to Harry.

"I doubt he's involved, Harry. But I'm sure MLE will be glad you caught him. They're here now. I'll talk to them. Expect they'll want to hold him for a few days as a material witness."

Moody started walking back towards the ladder, and Lupin, who appeared to be shocked by this treatment, shouted after him, "Alastor! You can't do this. I'm responsible to-- There's my work for--"

He stopped, not wanting to mention Dumbledore or the Order, perhaps, with MLE so near. Moody turned and came back a few steps.

"I don't think so, Lupin."

"But... I have..." He was staring at Moody disbelievingly. "Emmeline's brother has work for me. It's all arranged. Diagon Alley--"

"No. No job. Even if Emmeline were still alive to arrange it, I have a feeling you won't have much free time for working a job in London for a while," Moody interrupted.

"Alastor, it's the _full moon_ tonight. The Ministry's holding area-- I have--" Lupin's voice lowed to a hiss, "_Albus_ needs me to--"

Moody said calmly, "I'll make your excuses to Albus, Lupin."

Lupin blinked and looked briefly at Harry again before saying again, "I-- Moody, whatever you've heard--"

He broke off as Moody began stumping away again.

"I'll put an Engorgement charm on the window, Potter," Moody growled over his shoulder. "When you've finished here, levitate him through. No hurry, though."

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, I know. I've obviously read far too many trashy crime novels, but__.. meh._

_BTW, I did some thinking about Moody's magical eye and the extent to which he can see through walls and the like (recalling the Molly-Boggart scene in OotP). For purposes of this story, I opted for detection powers that are more limited in scope than that OotP scene might imply; perhaps he has the ability to pick up certain magical traces or movement, for example, but not full on, Superman-style x-ray vision. And Emmeline... the book did say her death was "horrible" or something, and that seemed to mean more than just some Crucios and an Avada Kedavra.  
_


	9. Questions

_A/N: It's been a long time between updates, for which I apologize. The result is my longest chapter yet. I hope not too long. Thanks to **flying cow**, who gave me a little nudge forward when I was tearing out my hair over the last few impossibly difficult pages._

* * *

**A "Saving People" Thing**

**Chapter 9. Questions**

Harry levitated the bound form of his former professor ahead of him down the attic stairs onto the second floor. Although no one else was in sight, the once-silent house had gained a sense of purposeful activity: The rumble of voices came from the room where Emmeline Vance's body lay, and footsteps echoed up the stairwell from the floors below.

"Harry," Lupin muttered as they reached the bottom of the stairs. He twisted his head back in an attempt to look Harry in the eye. "Albus wouldn't want this to happen. He needs every one of us to--"

"Shut up," Harry answered shortly.

With a down-flick of his wand, Harry lowered Lupin none too gently onto the floor of the hallway. The man tensed against his bindings for a moment, perhaps testing them, and then said in an insistent whisper, "I _swear_ to you, Harry, I had _nothing_--"

He broke off as Harry's wand moved to point directly at his face. Pulling his gaze away the wand, Lupin stared up at Harry as if he didn't recognize him. Harry could identify with the feeling.

The moment stretched out. Lupin appeared to be thinking hard, and eventually his expression changed to one of wary conciliation. Despite the wand still pointed at him, he'd apparently decided to try again. "Dumbledore would never want you do--"

"_Silencio!_"

Harry tucked his wand with slow deliberation back into his belt and then looked down. "I'm sorry I had to do that, Lupin, but sometimes you don't know when to stop."

Turning away, Harry moved towards the wide open door of Emmeline's room. The wood was emblazoned with a glowing blue mark in which Harry could make out the intertwined letters "MLE". The room appeared much as Harry had last seen it, still a mess, but Emmeline's body was now covered by a white sheet with the same blue mark.

Moody, facing the door, was conversing with a tall, gray-haired wizard in blue robes. They stood in a cleared spot in the middle of the floor and didn't appear to be at all pleased with one another. Two other blue-robed wizards moved methodically around the room, waving their wands across walls, windows, furniture, and debris. No one acknowledged Harry.

"... could've been anyone. I'm not calling in the--"

"Aurors are the ones you want dealing with Dark magic, man," Moody growled. "The rest of Magical Law Enforcement isn't equipped or trained to--

"Mr. Moody. With respect," interrupted the man in an exasperated manner that he seemed to be trying to quell, "There's no evidence of magical attack at all, much less Dark magic. It could have been anyone. If you're so sure this was Death Eaters, where's the Dark Mark?"

"They don't always use it. In the first war--"

"Yes, yes," the other man said hastily. "We're all of us is aware that you were in the forefront of the resistance to You-Know-Who in the first war. Very admirable, sir, but..." The man waved his hand around the room. "This could have been done by Muggles. Likely it was. She's chosen to live here alone, as a Muggle, on a Muggle street. There's not another Magical household nearer than Charing Cross. That in itself is suspicious, Mr. Moody, as I'm sure you'll agree."

Moody looked around the room and then down at the sheeted outline of Emmeline.

"Nothing could look less like Muggles," Moody finally said, his tone adding, _you imbecile._ "You're suggesting this sort of thing is bound to happen when a witch chooses to live with Muggles?"

"Of course not!" the man responded heatedly. "Although the incidence of violent crimes amongst Muggles is far higher that for Magical folk. You know that. And it's highly unusual that she should choose to live here instead of with her own kind. We'll be asking her friends and relations about it, you can be sure. And of course we'll also question her Muggle neighbors, even though they're unlikely to-- Well. We'll do everything we can to get to the bottom of it."

"Hmph." Moody was clearly not impressed by this reassurance.

Which the MLE official picked up on, because he switched tack and said rather aggressively, "And what exactly is your business here, if I may ask again, Mr. Moody? How do you come to know the victim? How did you manage to arrive before MLE?"

Moody, however, clearly wasn't about to let himself be browbeaten by a Ministry official. Instead of answering, he stepped closer to the man. In a quiet voice that Harry had to strain to hear, he said, "Listen to me, Towler. Call in Shacklebolt or someone else who's competent to pick up magical traces before it's too late to find them. _Now._ I'll take this up with Gawain or even Rufus if I have to, but I don't care to waste any more of my time."

The other man, Towler, let out a gusty sigh and stepped back with an air of capitulation. In spite of the circumstances, Harry almost grinned. If Towler's actions were any indication, Moody's name still carried some weight within the Ministry. Was it the fact that Moody was on a first name basis with the head of the Auror office, to say nothing of the Minister of Magic? Or was it Moody's own considerable reputation as a Dark wizard catcher? Because Towler's deference had been evident even before the casual mention of Scrimgeour's name.

The more time Harry spent in Moody's company, the more aware he was that many of his assumptions about the man were probably false. He'd first heard of Moody from Ron, who'd implied that he was a paranoid nutter. And then there had been that article in the _Daily Prophet_ calling him... what was it? A trigger-happy ex-Auror? But no one knew better than Harry himself how misleading that publication could be. And, much as he liked Ron, no one would call him an excellent judge of character.

Still, Harry wondered along with Towler what Emmeline Vance had been doing living in this rather wealthy Muggle area. The only thing that he knew that Towler didn't was that it must have something to do with the Order. His eyes went unconsciously to Moody's cloak, where the vial of memories was stored. And probably her carefully wrapped finger as well, because somehow he couldn't imagine Moody handing that over to MLE.

The MLE official pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from his pocket and began jotting a note in a manner that managed to convey aggrieved acquiescence. Moody looked to Harry in the doorway. Harry gave him a slight nod.

"Potter here's got a little present for you, Towler," Moody remarked to the man, using a tone anyone else might have used to discuss the weather. "Material witness."

Towler gaped at Moody, and then whirled around to face the door. "What? Potter? _Harry_ Potter?" he sputtered. "What do you mean a material witness? Here-- boy! What did you see?"

Moody grunted. "I didn't say he _was_ your witness. Potter came here with me. He caught someone on the roof trying to break through my anti-Apparition barrier. Would've managed it, too, I daresay. Those large barriers never do hold up for long."

For a moment, Harry was confused. Moody was behaving as if he didn't know Lupin, calling him just "someone". When he thought about it, though, it made sense. Order members wouldn't want to draw attention to the fact that they were acquainted with one another. Harry supposed that Lupin--if he were still as loyal to the Order as he claimed--would do the same, no matter what grievances he held against Moody or against Harry himself.

Towler gave Harry an assessing glance and then added a lengthy addendum to his note. He handed it to one of his men, saying brusquely, "Get that to Robards."

The man nodded and left the room, giving Harry a long look as he passed.

Towler stepped to the door and peered down at Lupin. After taking in his bound form and somewhat battered appearance, he gave Harry a sharp look and said, "Offered up some resistance, I take it."

Harry didn't know how to reply, but Moody answered for him. "In a manner of speaking. Doubt if he's your man. Seems he has an alibi for last night. Still you'll want to hold him for a few days and see what you can get out of him. Oh, and he says he's a werewolf."

Towler made a sound of disgust and took a quick step back. He transferred his gaze to Moody again and said, "We'll deal with him. But first, let's talk about Potter. You know Minister Scrimgeour has done everything short of putting the thumbscrews on old Dumbledore to get the boy into the Ministry for a talk. We'll bring him in as well."

"No, you won't," Moody replied casually, scratching what was left of his nose.

"Now see here, Mr. Moody, the Minister would have me chucked out on my ear if he heard I'd found Potter and didn't bring him in, so if you think--"

"Tomorrow."

"You can't just waltz him out of here again without--"

"Tell _Rufus,_" Moody interrupted, emphasizing the first name, "That either I or Albus will bring him in tomorrow morning. Ten o'clock."

"You expect him to just--"

Moody held up a hand for silence and got it. The knotted joints of the old man's hand looked like marbles under his skin. In addition to the missing parts of his nose and leg, Moody appeared to have lost a bit of his ring finger somewhere along the way.

"And if Potter doesn't want to come with you," Moody asked Towler, with a raised eyebrow, "what are you going to do, man? Truss him up like that werewolf and drag him in?" Moody gave a rusty chuckle. "The _Prophet_ would have a field day with that story, I can tell you. And bang goes your next promotion. I don't see that you have any choice here, Towler, nor does the Minister. Tell him ten o'clock." Moody turned his head to addressed an open-mouthed Harry, saying, "Wait for me downstairs, will you, Potter?"

Without waiting for an answer, Moody returned his attention to Towler and said, "Now. Who've you got working lock up these days? Anyone I might know?"

Harry walked slowly out of the room as the two of them conferred in quiet voices. They followed him into the hallway to stand near Lupin. Harry caught the word "werewolf" and then, as he reached the stairs, he heard Moody say, "If anyone questions it, from Bones on down, tell 'em I requested it specifically."

More murmuring, and then "But mind he comes out again in one piece, or..."

Harry vaguely wondered if Moody were ensuring Lupin's safety at the Ministry or exactly the opposite and found he didn't much care. He made his way to the downstairs hallway, passing a few MLE workers. Ignoring their curious stares with the ease of long practice, he found a comfortable bit of floor next to the front door and sat down.

Harry felt as if an age had passed since he had walked into this house with Moody, but it had probably been less than an hour. Propping his elbows on his raised knees, he leaned his head, which had begun to ache again, against his hands. He wanted to get at the meaning of everything he'd seen and heard that morning.

The thing was, he had so many questions that he didn't know where to start. Questions like, what had Emmeline been doing for the Order? Was her murder directly related to that? Did Moody know, or only suspect, that Death Eaters were involved? If he knew, how did he know? And how would the Ministry go about finding the murderers? What memory was in the vial?

And what about Tonks? Would she have to give an alibi for Lupin? And if so, would she be in trouble with the Ministry for associating with a werewolf?

And then there was a question that was of great interest to Harry, if to no one else: Why did Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, want to see him? And how long had he been wanting to do that? According to Towler, Dumbledore had repeatedly denied requests for such a meeting. Denied them without so much as consulting Harry.

Harry wondered with a scowl if Dumbledore had even considered doing that first. Probably not. Almost certainly not. When had he ever consulted Harry about anything? He balled up his fists in irritation and then winced. His hand hurt where he'd hit Lupin. A lot, actually, although he hadn't noticed it at the time. A raw scrape ran across his knuckles, and when he flexed his fingers, they felt stiff and painful. But as long as he could still hold a wand, it didn't matter much.

What did matter was Dumbledore's highhandedness, and his own anger. An anger, if he were honest with himself, that had been mounting ever since Sirius's death, when Dumbledore had first admitted the extent to which he had concealed the truth from Harry for so many years.

And, despite all his reassurances to the contrary, Dumbledore was still keeping secrets from him, pulling strings, setting events in motion that concerned him, but never included him.

Did the headmaster think of him as a child still, as someone who needed to be protected from corrupting influences like Scrimgeour? Or was he simply using Harry as a pawn in some stupid power game against Scrimgeour, or even against Voldemort?

The sharp thump of a wooden leg on the stairs caught Harry's attention, and he raised his head to watch the ex-Auror's approach. Harry suspected that he'd have little more time with Moody today, so the thing to do was to focus on the most important points first. Try to get a few things arranged, and some answers, if possible, before the man disappeared to confer with the Dumbledore or to plot retribution or however he meant to occupy himself.

The man's expression, even now, was impassive: He didn't look like a someone who had just found a friend brutally tortured and murdered; his appearance was just what it had been at Tonks's flat that morning. Same brown cloak, same iron gray hair falling to his shoulders, same still face betrayed by a magical eye shifting restlessly in its socket.

When he reached Harry, he paused as Harry stood, and then he led the way out of the townhouse and down its front steps.

The chilly fog was heavier than it had been that morning, laying a milky shroud over the buildings and cars. As they retraced their steps to the Apparition point, the other pedestrians appeared and then disappeared into the mist like ghosts.

When they arrived in the alleyway, Moody stood in the gloom. He closed his good eye in concentration for a moment, and then cast his Patronus, a large hawk that rose quickly into the air like vapor before disappearing.

Meeting Harry's eye, he growled, "For Albus. Rescheduling my appointment. He'll have heard by now why I'm late." He reached for Harry's arm. "Right. Let's get going, lad. I've fifteen minutes to sort you out, an hour to sort out those pillocks at the Ministry, and then Albus will be expecting me."

"Wait," Harry said, shaking him off the man's hand. "I have some questions, and I want--"

"I expect you want a lot of things, Potter, but they'll have to wait," Moody responded brusquely.

Harry let out a quick, exasperated breath. "Look, if the Minister wants me--"

"We'll deal with that tomorrow morning, after I've talked to Albus."

"But I want to know--"

"If you have questions about the case, Nymphadora will be able to answer them when she comes home tonight. I expect she'll be working it along with--"

Harry answered through gritted teeth. "I. Won't. Be. There."

Moody fixed him with a piercing glare from his good eye, and Harry had the impression that he'd given the man a surprise for the second time that day.

"Well?" Moody barked.

Harry took a breath. "I'm not staying in her flat anymore. You might mention to Professor Dumbledore when you see him that I'm stopping with Fred and George Weasley until school starts, if they'll have me. If not, I'll stay at the Leaky Cauldron. And as for Scrimgeour--" Harry paused, trying to think of some way to protest Dumbledore's maneuvering without sounding petulant. "We _will_ talk about that tomorrow, because I'm through being led around like some trained poodle."

To Harry's surprise, Moody clapped him roughly on the back and said, "Don't blame you a bit, although your timing isn't the best. Told you I didn't see eye to eye with Albus on everything." Moody sounded almost cheerful as he said this. Then he went on more seriously, "Stay put at Nymphadora's, though. One more day. Do that for me, lad, and then I think I may have a proposal you're going to like."

At Harry's nod, Moody reached out to grasp his arm for Apparition. This time, Harry didn't resist.

"And now, food," Moody told him. "We've just enough time to fill a cupboard, eh, Potter?" And then he spun them around.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Harry was back in Tonks's flat, standing in the doorway with a bulging paper sack. Moody had managed the grocery shopping with the same alarming efficiency that he did everything else. Now, with a last, gruff admonition to "stay put," Moody closed and resecured the door.

Harry listened for a moment as the clumping footsteps receded down the hall before taking the bag into kitchen and putting away the rather odd assortment of foodstuffs that Moody had selected. Still, he had to admit that toast, baked beans, and a banana were a gourmet treat compared to the leftover takeaway that he normally foraged for lunch.

As he ate, Harry resolutely turned his thoughts away from the morning's events. Instead, he leafed through the _Daily Prophet_ that Tonks had left on the dining table. The news wasn't good, but at least Emmeline Vance's murder wasn't splashed across the front page. That would be tomorrow's news, unless the Ministry was able to keep it quiet.

Could they quash a story if they chose to? He wondered about that. How much control did the Ministry exercise over what was printed in the _Prophet_?

In the short time since Scrimgeour had taken over from Fudge, the Ministry had upped its already considerable efforts to reassure an increasingly skittish constituency. The posters, news articles, and pamphlets all promoted a single theme: that the Wizarding government was capable and prepared to protect the Magical community from Voldemort and his followers.

But how long would people continue to buy that line, especially if the violence kept escalating? Every day there were reports of suspicious disappearances, property destruction, rumors of giants or trolls sighted in normally peaceful districts. To Harry, it was still an open question whether the Ministry actually spent any time pursuing Voldemort, or whether all of their resources were directed to damage control. If Fudge were still in charge, Harry suspected that it would be all damage control, but Scrimgeour was as yet an unknown.

But he wouldn't continue to be an unknown. Not after tomorrow.

Finding a piece of parchment and a quill, he began making notes for his meeting with Scrimgeour. Now that he knew how eager the Minister was to speak to him, Harry could see this gave him an advantage he could use. Harry half smiled to himself as he prepared a list of questions and... call them "requests." If the Minister wanted something from Harry, he'd need to be ready to offer up a lot more in trade than the empty reassurances he gave everyone else.

By the time he had finished, the mist had finally dissipated and the sun, much lower in the sky now, sent a golden column of warmth into the room. Harry stood and stretched in the sunshine. He massaged his hand, which was cramped from writing and still painful.

He spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for his departure: cleaning Hedwig's cage, repacking his possessions into his trunk, and owling his request to Fred and George for a room. Hedwig was back within minutes carrying the twin's enthusiastic agreement as well as a selection of sweets that they assured him were "fine for eating." Harry regarded them dubiously for only a moment before tossing them in the bin.

After a quick dinner and a shower, Harry made a final tour of the flat to make sure that none of his possessions were still lying about. Nothing of his own was in evidence, but on the low table in front of the sofa lay a book he had never seen before covered in faded red cloth. Curious, Harry picked up the book and opened it.

There was writing on the the yellowed flyleaf, some of it too faded with age to read in the fading light of dusk. Harry reached for his wand to light one of the candles on the table and then stopped.

No one else was here, and he wasn't supposed to use his magic without someone else in the flat.

Inwardly cursing, he lit the candle anyway with an quick tap of his wand. Harry mentally added magic use to the list of things he planned to discuss with Scrimgeour.

Death put a lot of things into a new and probably more accurate perspective, including the ban on underage magic use. All of the petty Ministry regulations in the world weren't going to stop Death Eaters. Or find Emmeline Vance's murderer. And he himself hadn't hesitated to use magic against Lupin earlier that day, when he believed he was capturing a killer. Was some Ministry injunction winging its way to him even now?

Harry looked back down at the flyleaf of the book in his hand. On the brittle, old paper were several inscriptions in different hands. The first, and dimmest, was in a flowing copperplate:

_Presented to Alastor in the hope he that will strive for excellence in everything his does. - Dad_

The next one was written in an heavy, angular hand, the words pressed firmly into the paper:

_To Dunbar, who may become a credit to the Auror Office if he continues to apply himself. - Uncle Alastor_

The one that followed was in the same handwriting:

_Nymphadora, Be vigilant in your studies. I expect you to amount to something one day. - Alastor Moody_

Harry recognized Tonks's hasty scribble in the last inscription, although it looked as if she'd made an effort to be neater than usual.

_For Harry, future Auror. Keep this until someone you care about needs it more than you do. - N. Tonks_

Harry flipped through the rest of the book. Interspersed with the sparse text were sepia tinted Wizarding photographs of people using barbell weights. The pictures, like the book, were old, and the people in them had the outdated look of another era with their waxed mustaches, woolen string vests, and solemn expressions. Victorian? Edwardian? Harry couldn't be sure.

Clearly, this was the instruction book for the weights that Tonks had offered him last night. She must have found it and added the last inscription that morning before leaving for work. Harry perused the book for a long time, watching the men in the photographs demonstrate their exercises in ceaseless, never-tiring repetition. He flipped back to read the inscriptions again and then closed the book and lay it on the table.

Going to his room, Harry reached under the bed to retrieve the weights that he had decided earlier not to accept. Carefully, he stowed them in his school trunk and then returned to the sofa.

In the deepening evening shadows, images flitted into his mind: Emmeline's body in its crimson pool, Lupin as he twisted away from the Incarcerous, a finger in a teacup, a jewel bright trail of blood. Harry tried to empty his mind, because he didn't want to see Emmeline Vance. Or Sirius. Or Cedric, with his blank, surprised stare. Instead, he found himself facing a young Alastor Moody sporting a string vest and a large mustache. And then there was an older man, maybe it was Moody's dad. And then it was Tonks, with the light blue hair she rarely wore, holding one of the weights out to him. She winked, and he grinned back.

Harry must have fallen into a dreaming doze, because when he became aware of himself again he was slumped uncomfortably sideways with his cheek resting on the arm of the sofa. It felt late, although he had no precise idea of the time. The candle he'd lit earlier was much lower, and cast a flickering glow in an otherwise dark room.

Shaking off his momentary disorientation, he sat up and looked towards the front door, from which came the characteristic _snick_ of wards coming down. That must have been what had roused him. On any other night, the sound would have been no cause for concern, but simply the signal that Tonks was arriving home. Tonight, however, he felt for his wand and drew it.

After this morning, Moody's brand of caution no longer felt like paranoia to him, but merely good sense.

The door cracked open, and Tonks, still in her scarlet Auror robes, slipped inside. She immediately closed and re-warded the door, and Harry cleared his throat so as not to startle her in the dim room. She turned at the sound, met his eyes, and looked down at the tip of Harry's wand, which was still pointing towards her.

She smiled faintly and, strangely, the expression only emphasized how unhappy she looked. "You want to pose one of those idiotic security questions? Go ahead, Harry. Only don't ask what was the last thing I said to you last night, alright? Not up to that at the moment."

Harry tucked his wand away, but she continued to watch him. Her face was pale under her inky hair, and there were shadows under her eyes. "You didn't need to wait up," she said finally. "It's late. Past midnight."

Offering him another smile that didn't reach beyond her mouth, Tonks turned away and made her way methodically around the flat, much as Moody had done that morning, briefly reinforcing the wards on each window. Harry saw that he wasn't the only one to re-evaluate paranoia today.

She walked out of the room and Harry heard her renewing the wards in the bedrooms. As she returned to the living room, she pulled her Auror robes over her head to reveal her usual ripped jeans and an incongruously cheerful yellow t-shirt.

Bunching up the robes, she pitched them towards the coat rack next to the front door. They missed the rack and fell to the floor, forming a deep red puddle in the shadows that reminded Harry forcibly of Emmeline as he'd last seen her. Shoving that unwelcome thought away, he turned his attention to Tonks.

She perched at the opposite end of the sofa and unbuckled her boots. One at a time, the boots sailed across the room to land with an angry thump in the corner with her robes. Then she pulled her stocking feet up onto the seat and wrapped her arms around her knees.

For a minute, neither of them spoke. Harry realized he'd not uttered a word since she arrived. He cast around, but could think of nothing to say that didn't sound ludicrous in his mind: Welcome back. Or, Have a busy day? Or even, How are you? So instead, he examined the white tag sticking up from the neck of her shirt. The callus on the index finger of her wand hand. The little mole that was just visible under the hair at her temple.

Tonks put her hands to her face and rubbed it tiredly. From behind them, she said again in a muffled voice, "You didn't have to wait up." And then: "You heard about her?"

"Yes," Harry said, and the single word seemed to fall like a droplet of water into a still, dark pool, their mutual knowledge of what had happened to Emmeline spreading wider and wider, until it filled the room.

For a few seconds, they were silent. Harry wondered if Tonks knew he'd been with Moody at Emmeline's flat. From her question, he supposed not. He said quietly, "I'm sorry. It must have been... Did you know her well?"

Tonks, her arms still wrapped around her knees, looked around the room at familiar objects, the lamp, the carpet, the table. She didn't look at Harry.

"Uh huh." She seemed on the point of saying more, but instead she leaned forward and picked up the book from the table. She flipped it open, looked at the flyleaf, and closed it again. "So, you found your book?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Thanks. I-- The inscriptions. Dunbar. Was that--"

"Moody's nephew. He was going to be an Auror."

"Was?"

"Dead," she said, still looking at the cover of the book, rubbing its cloth surface with her thumb. "Beginning of the first war. It's how Mad-Eye got hooked up with Dumbledore, actually. He was a Ministry man through and through before that. Some kind of MLE cock-up got his nephew killed, and they say Mad-Eye was pounding on Dumbledore's office door next day."

"How do you know?"

Tonks shrugged. "Heard it around the Order. Don't ask him about it, though."

"No." Harry looked at Tonks's tense shoulders and said, "Look, do you want some tea?"

She lay the book down on the sofa beside her and shook her head. "Nah. Thanks. You go to bed. I would, too, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep yet. I keep..." She took a breath and blew it out impatiently. Half turning on the sofa, Tonks pointed her wand towards the kitchen and Summoned a bottle of firewhisky from a cupboard.

Harry had never seen her drink firewhisky before, hadn't known she kept any in the flat. Pulling out the stopper, she took a sip from the bottle and then shuddered, saying, "Ugh. Revolting stuff."

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and tilted the bottle towards Harry so that the amber liquid inside sloshed and glittered in the candlelight. Harry took it from her but didn't drink.

She muttered again as if to herself, "I'm not going to be able to sleep," and scrubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes. Harry thought she looked very young at that moment, as well as exhausted and discouraged. He wondered at her past experience as an Auror. Somehow he'd pictured all Aurors reacting as stoically as Moody had done. Had she never seen people who had been killed before? Was murder a rarer occurrence in the Wizarding world than it seemed to be in the Muggle one? Or had she been particularly close to Emmeline?

He shifted sideways and pulled his legs up to sit cross legged next to her. He took her wrists and tugged her hands gently away from her face. "Long shift, huh?"

Tonks nodded and grimaced. "Been on the case all day. I talked to everyone on that bloody street three times over, using three different approaches, morphing into three different people, comparing all the statements, writing the blasted reports, arguing with the idiots in MLE who think Muggles can't be trusted to remember their own names much less what they might have seen or heard last night. Oh. All day _except_ for my meal breaks, when I had the pleasure of being called onto the carpet by Mad-Eye. I understand I have you to thank for that."

She sounded resigned, but not particularly angry. She reached out her hand for the firewhisky, which Harry gave her. She took another sip. Gave another shudder.

"We're going to be on this overnight," she went on, picking at the ripped knee of her jeans. "Rounding up the usual suspects from Knockturn Alley, most likely. Nothing will come of it, but..." She shrugged. "Makes us look responsive, you know? They pulled everyone who had the day off back in to work tonight. Robards sent me home because I'd already done a double shift, but I need to get back early tomorrow. I should be off to bed, but..."

Tonks turned the bottle around in her hands, watching the liquid as it caught the light. She pushed the stopper into the bottle and then said carefully, "Mad-Eye thinks... He thinks the Death Eaters targeted Emmeline because she was in the Order. That they knew, somehow, what she was doing. You know what 'somehow' really means, don't you, Harry?"

Harry thought. "A spy?"

"Yeah." Tonks nodded. She scooted closer to him, so that their knees were touching and leaned forward. She said in a low, urgent voice, "Not necessarily, but... _yes_. And what she might have told them if she... If they got her to talk. It's very worrisome, Harry. And of course we don't know whether she did talk or not. I wasn't at the scene today, but... I heard she was tortured."

"Yeah. She was," Harry said without thinking. Tonks looked at him sharply, and he added. "I was there, with Mad-Eye. We were the ones who found the-- who found Emmeline."

Tonks took a moment to absorb this and then asked, "You saw her?"

Harry nodded, trying to keep the picture of Emmeline from materializing in his mind. Setting the firewhisky bottle on the table with a brittle _clink, _Tonks reached out and grasped both of his hands, squeezing them hard.

"I didn't get a chance to see her myself. I was-- They had me on the street most of the day. I haven't read the reports yet either, only heard what people were saying." He saw her throat move as she swallowed. "Tell me. Please..." She sat up straighter, waiting for his answer with a set expression, but still gripping his hands tightly.

Talking about it, Harry thought, would only make what had happened seem worse. For her and for him. He didn't want to be the one to tell her about it. Not in the middle of the night when neither of them was a position to make any difference at all.

Tonks must have seen the reluctance in his expression, because she said softly, "Are you alright yourself, Harry? I'm sorry, I didn't think at first-- For you to have to seen that after everything else--"

"No. I mean, yeah. I'm alright. It was..."

"It was what, Harry?" Tonks prompted, gazing at him with concern.

"In some ways, it was worse than the other deaths I've seen. A lot worse. So much... there was so much blood, Tonks. And her-- her hands." He looked down at Tonks's hands, and her fingers tangled in his own. He went on, still looking down, "But in other ways, it was nothing like as bad as the others, because with them I felt guilty, you know? Exactly as if I'd done it to them myself. With Emmeline, I don't have that weight on me. Or at least, if I am responsible for her death, it's only indirectly. Because I've left Voldemort alive this long."

"Oh, Harry." He looked up to find Tonks regarding him gravely, her brow furrowed in sympathy. Abruptly, she released his hands and pulled him into an affectionate embrace. Harry hesitated for a moment and then relaxed into the warm curve her arms. The only person who regularly hugged him was Mrs. Weasley, and somehow this didn't feel at all the same.

Harry looked down at her head bent against his shoulder, at the dark hair curling against the back of her neck, and felt the tension draining from him completely for the first time that day. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lay his cheek against her hair.

They stayed silent for a long moment, and Harry remembered the afternoon he'd arrived at her flat and her spontaneous hug, when she'd told him how sorry she was about Sirius. He'd felt the same thing then as now, a kind of comfort that was like deep heat seeping into his bones.

After a minute, Tonks lifted her head so that her mouth was close to his ear. She whispered, "Those deaths. You're _not_ responsible, Harry. At all. For any of them. You must know that in your heart."

She pressed one hand to his chest, keeping the other arm twined around his neck. He could feel his heart beating beneath her palm as she went on, "I understand the guilt because-- well, I just do. But in your case, there's no reason for it. You never chose any of this. You were never given a choice."

Harry didn't answer, but nodded, feeling the tickle of her hair against his cheek. Neither of them moved, but after a few minutes, he felt Tonks yawn against his shoulder.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"I'll-- I should let you get to bed, then," Harry offered reluctantly.

"Mm hm," Tonks agreed, not moving. "But if I try, I'll just see Emmeline. Imagine her, I mean. You go on, though."

"I-- No, it's okay. I know what you mean about seeing her." Harry remembered last year, how Cedric's dead and indefinably accusing eyes had appeared every time he had shut his own. "I'll stay up with you if you want."

"I'd like that," she admitted inching a little closer. "Just-- For a few minutes, yeah? I'm worried, Harry. About us. The Order. If they tracked down Emmeline because she was one of us. If they already knew..."

He felt her shoulders stiffen as she said this, and of its own accord his hand began to stroked a soothing pattern along her back.

"Tonks, there's absolutely nothing--"

"They tortured her. Because they knew--" Her breath was coming in agitated puffs against his neck. "They knew _somehow_ that she was part of the Order--"

"There'll be time tomorrow to think about this. Don't--"

"They might have forced her to identify us," she interrupted, speaking in a rapid voice. "Any of us. And if they found her, Harry, they can find--"

"But _not tonight,_" he cut her off firmly. He moved his hands up to rest on her shoulders and shifted so he could look her in the eye, make her understand. "Try and forget about it. Not forever. Just for tonight. You can't do anything for Emmeline until tomorrow."

Tonks met Harry's gaze with her dark eyes, and then she blinked and turned her head slightly away. "That's just it, isn't it? I can't do anything for her ever, Harry. We're... the only thing we can do now is to try and keep it from happening to anyone else."

She shut her eyes tightly, and her face creased as if she were in physical pain. Without thinking, Harry brought a finger up to her cheek. Turning her face back towards him, he brushed his lips over hers. She went completely still, as if she were holding her breath, and he kissed her again so lightly that he scarcely felt the contact.

He drew back and looked at her, their faces inches apart. He saw her mouth open as if to say something, but all that came out was a small _oh_. Then she leaned forward and returned his gesture with eager warmth. Her kisses were like an extension of herself, darting and impulsive, and offered with an uncomplicated enthusiasm. Harry felt a shiver of pleasure run through Tonks as their tongues met, sliding hungrily over each other. Her fingers ran through the hair at the back of his neck as she gave herself up to this.

Time passed, but how much was anyone's guess, because everything that was happening seemed to be circumventing Harry's brain. Without breaking their kiss, he pressed Tonks gently back until she was lying on the sofa beneath him, their bodies meeting in a hot, desperate line from chest to thigh. All worries of Emmeline, of spies, of threats to the Order melted away. And, Harry thought vaguely, maybe that was exactly the point of this.

One of her hands cupped his face, fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as Tonks pulled him closer, her body seeming to fit exactly against his own. They moved together as if they were part of some instinctive conspiracy to create a moment outside of time and space, where there were no concerns, but only the opportunity to feel and be.

They were kissing more urgently now and the air around them was charged with something that was almost desperation. Harry shifted to a better position so he could free one hand and run his palm along the warm skin of her stomach under her shirt.

His fingers found the hem of her t-shirt, and he dragged it up impatiently. As Tonks arched her back to help him, her foot hit the book at the end of the sofa. It fell with a _thunk_ onto the carpet, startling both of them.

Tonks looked up at Harry and offered him an embarrassed half-grin that made his heart sink. He waited, expecting her to pull away with some joke. Instead she stayed where she was beneath him, her fingers exploring the curve of his neck and shoulder.

Finally she said somewhat breathlessly, "I-- I must say I rather enjoyed that." She grinned wider. And then she laughed as if she'd just announced something quite absurd.

Harry couldn't help but join in. "Yeah. Well. Isn't that the general idea with snogging?" He saw her smile fade, and added, "You're not sorry we're doing this, are you?"

"I-- No. Well... I don't know. I suppose not while we were doing it, but--" And now she did twist a bit and push at his chest until she had them both sitting up again.

"You don't look like you regretted it," he returned, tugging at a lock of her hair that had gone pink at some point.

"Don't be an smug arse," she said, tucking her hair back behind her ears. "My hair changes color all the time. Don't assume it was anything to do with you." But the smile in her eyes said something else. "Thing is, there's a special new circle in hell that Mad-Eye and Dumbledore would carve out for me if they find out I've been seducing the Boy Who Lived. I'm in enough trouble with the two of them already."

"What did they say--"

"Ergh. Later, okay?" Tonks rolled her eyes expressively.

"How about we don't tell them. About the seducing, I mean," Harry suggested with smirk.

"Not possible to keep a secret from Mad-Eye. Believe me. I've tried. The man's a menace." Tonks grinned again, and then suddenly yawned, seemingly surprising herself. "You know, I think I may be able to sleep now. Thanks, Harry."

"You're welcome," he said formally. "The pleasure was entirely mine." They both snickered.

Tonks straightened her t-shirt and flopped back down on the cushions. She said, "This sofa has always been an excellent spot for naps. I might be willing to share it if you like."

* * *


	10. Truth and a Lie

_Warning: Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling melodrama. So, um. Yeah. Just so you know. I needed to set up for future chapters. Eventually I hope to get to all that sex and violence I promised in this story's summary._

* * *

**A "Saving People" Thing**

**Chapter 10. Truth and a Lie**

"... and then she sort of sneered said, 'Well, you ought to have anticipated the transport problem if you were arresting someone accused of illegal Engorgement charms.' You know how bureaucrats are. They'll niggle over anything. So my partner told her that if she felt that way about it..."

From the moment she'd opened her eyes that morning--and calling it "morning" was in the nature of a courtesy, as the sun hadn't risen yet--Tonks had kept up a ceaseless flow of chatter as she went about what Harry assumed was her usual 5am routine. She'd jerked awake to some internal alarm clock, untangled herself from him with a somewhat abashed grin, and then bounded off the sofa, immediately launching into some tale about a Kneazle she'd had as a child that used to shed all over her duvet.

In between then and now he'd been treated to information about her dad's prize roses, her first detention at Hogwarts, and the best way to get doxies out of drapes. She was only trying to smooth over any awkwardness after last night, Harry supposed, and he probably should have been grateful that she wasn't showing off her pig nose or something, but it was beginning to set his teeth on edge.

He'd tried once or twice to break in on her wittering, because they had a few important things to discuss before she left for work. Awkward as it might be to do so, he wanted to talk over the situation with Lupin and to ask about the results of her meeting yesterday with Moody. Had Moody managed to make her see any sense? Did she even know about Lupin's arrest? And Harry still hadn't had a chance to mention his upcoming meeting with Scrimgeour or even the fact that he was moving out of the flat today.

But Harry wasn't a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, and he was no match at this ungodly hour for a determinedly chipper Tonks. So instead, he'd half tuned her out and let his mind turn rather dozily to his upcoming meeting with Scrimgeour.

Moody had said that either he or Dumbledore would be accompanying Harry to the Ministry this morning. Harry's initial enthusiasm for a meeting with the Minister of Magic had faded a bit during the night. He still wanted to get some questions answered and possibly even wring some concessions out of the man, but he felt more than a little nervous about it now.

Harry found himself hoping it would be Moody who came with him; that was a strange feeling after so many years of craving more time and attention from Dumbledore. But aside from anything else, Harry wanted to know more about that opportunity which he thought Harry "might like". Harry appreciated how Moody's words had made it clear that his "proposal" was an actual choice being offered. That wasn't something Harry would have expected from the order-barking ex-Auror he thought he'd known.

It was odd how only a few short weeks should have altered his opinions about so many people. There was Lupin, whose aloof, polite manner masked anger and hatred. Tonks, whose cheerful optimism hid motivations so unlikely they were almost unfathomable. And Moody. Harry had always held the man in a sort of wary esteem; but until yesterday, it had been strongly overlaid with a belief that he was also a bit of a joke: a shell-shocked former Auror who took his paranoia to an unhealthy extreme.

And then Dumbledore. Would the headmaster ever bring himself to be completely candid with--

"... called me every name in the book and then some," Tonks was saying brightly as she passed him heading towards the kitchen.

Harry tuned back in again.

"Uh, who did?" he asked.

She stopped, seemingly surprised to get any response after at least fifteen minutes of monologue. "Hm? Mad-Eye. You know how he is about wand safety. It was only my first day of training. How could I have known that tucking my wand behind my ear would be like a red flag to a bull?"

"So he was upset with you?" Harry asked, rising from the sofa and stepping closer to Tonks. He casually placed himself between her and the kitchen.

"Yeah, 'course he was," she said impatiently, repeating, "You know how he is."

She made to step around him, but he detained her with a hand on her arm. "How about yesterday? When you two met. What happened then?"

She shook off his touch and moved past him, muttering, "He chewed me up and spit me out is what happened. Which I'm sure you'll be very happy to hear. Isn't that what you intended when you ran off to him in the first place?"

He ignored the last question as well as its resentful tone, responding mildly, "I didn't get the idea that he was angry with you when I talked with him earlier."

"You wouldn't have." She lifted the teakettle from the cooktop and began filling it with water. "It isn't his way to criticize one member of his team to another. It's when he gets you alone that you have to watch out."

"Oh?" Harry thought about this. "Not that I'm part of his 'team', but I can see his point in--"

"That's where you're wrong, Harry." Tonks gave him a quick, assessing look. "You are. Don't know how you managed to get him on side so fast, but you did." She smirked, adding, "And once you're in, there's no escaping."

She set the teakettle back down on the hob and lit a flame beneath it with a quick double-tap of her wand before continuing briskly, "But you're in good company, even if I say it myself. There's me, Kingsley, Robards, at least a dozen others, even old Scrimmie. The ones Mad-Eye took a special interest in when he was teaching. And he still treats the lot of us like wet-behind-the-ears trainees."

She shook her head affectionately. "Should have heard him laying into Robards at the Ministry yesterday."

She stepped away from the stove. "So, yeah. He wouldn't criticize me to you, or vice versa, I might add. S'pose he fed you some rubbish about it taking all kinds to make a team, or everyone makes mistakes, or another of his bro--" Tonks broke off with a small gasp as she opened the icebox. "Oh, for Merlin's--"

"What is it?" Concerned, Harry crossed around the worktop and came into the kitchen. Tonks was staring into the icebox in consternation.

"Huh?" She glanced up at him before returning her dismayed gaze to the food. "Oh. Just Mad-Eye. Barmy old-- You let him drag you into Tesco's yesterday, didn't you? He loves that place. Any excuse to buy Muggle food, though he claims it's only because no Dark wizard has ever set foot in one..."

She pulled out a jar of Marmite and tossed it to Harry. "Bin it, will you?"

Harry did as requested. Tonks reached in again and came out with a large courgette which she handed behind her without comment. He added it to the reject pile.

"What the--? And just _what_ do you call _this?_" She emerged holding up a sealed cellophane bag between a disdainful thumb and forefinger.

Harry looked at the chopped green leaves inside it. "Er. Salad?" Harry suggested.

"In a bag?" Tonks shuddered dramatically. "What will Muggles think of next?" She pitched it towards the bin, where it joined the Marmite and courgette.

"Right," she said, turning back to the icebox. "I think that's the lot. You couldn't have made a bit more effort and talked him into a few sausage rolls or something? But at least we've got bread--" Out came the loaf. "And eggs," The eggs were handed over. "And butter. Reckon that should do us."

Tonks toasted bread with a flame from her wand tip while Harry cracked eggs into the frying pan. She'd managed to deflect the conversation yet again, but Harry was awake enough now to push back. As they cooked, Harry prodded her for more information about Moody and her meeting yesterday.

Tonks gave him sidelong look, frowned, and then said stiffly. "I wish... I wish you'd warned me you were going to tell him, Harry. About Remus. I'd much rather have done it myself, because he got rather the wrong impression of what happened that night."

Privately, Harry doubted that, but he only said, "I felt I had to, Tonks."

"Well, all the same, I'm quite--" She huffed and turned slightly way from him. She turned the bread slice over and watched it brown for a moment. Then she said with forced cheerfulness, "He approves of you. Mad-Eye, I mean. Did you know that, Harry?"

"That wasn't the impression I got yesterday when we talked about Lupin. The opposite, to be honest."

"Ah. So he _did_ he give you that 'even you might make a mistake someday, so get over it' malarkey?

"Uh huh. Something like that," Harry admitted.

"Don't let that mislead you. He isn't nearly as easygoing about people buggering things up as all that. Yesterday I met him during both of my meal breaks at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom let us use his back room-- that one they sometimes use for Gobstones tournaments. Mad-Eye stumped around the carpet--you know how he does?--fumed, shouted, made highly disparaging remarks about Hufflepuffs, called my judgment into question, and all but accused me of harboring a traitor. That'd be Remus, in case you were wondering. Did everything but froth at the mouth, in short."

She buttered the toast with a few slapdash swipes of her knife, and went on, "You know that saying about someone whose bark is worse than his bite?"

He nodded.

"They weren't talking about Mad-Eye."

She tossed the toast onto Harry's plate with more force than was strictly necessary.

Reaching for another slice, she went on, "No, he's not one for letting go of mistakes, so don't let his little speeches fool you. All it means is that you're not to go around blaming anyone else on the team. Only he's allowed to do that. The rest of us stay focused on task, you know? No recriminations. No second guessing."

She was quiet for along while and made a show of concentrating on the bread, and then said, "Oh, and Harry?"

"Yeah?" He looked up to see her giving him a lopsided smile that dimpled her cheek.

"One small piece of advice for handling Mad-Eye? Anytime he says, 'Let me tell you a little story about my mam and dad...' You turn and head the other way as quick as you can, right?"

Harry couldn't hold back a slight grin at that.

"Laugh now," Tonks said airily. "You'll thank me later." She picked up the teakettle as it began whistling and set about making tea.

It was hard to keep Tonks on topic, intent as she was on maintaining a light tone and avoiding anything that might be called an issue.

He slid the eggs onto plates and prompted again, "And? When you met with him, Mad-Eye said what about Lupin, exactly...?"

But instead of replying, Tonks set their tea on a tray and carried it to the dining table. Harry followed with the plates.

When they'd begun to eat, she remarked with careful casualness, "Remus was caught and arrested yesterday morning at Emmeline's. Did you hear that?"

Harry grunted noncommittally as he shoveled a forkful of egg into his mouth.

When he didn't say anything more, Tonks went on pointedly, "A bad case of being in a very wrong place at a very wrong time, wouldn't you say, Harry? The Ministry doesn't make things easy for werewolves. Ever. Guilty until proven innocent, that kind of thing. So no one in MLE is going to be overly fussed about sorting it out. Makes 'em look good to have someone in custody so quickly. And you know what I can't help thinking?"

Again she paused, and again Harry didn't answer, so she continued, "I keep thinking that Remus wouldn't be in that situation if I hadn't been forced to send him away that night because of what you-- what he-- Because you're both completely--"

She stopped herself with what looked like an effort. She took a slow breath and started again, "If things had gone differently, Harry, as they would have done if you'd left me to handle it that night, Remus wouldn't be in a Ministry cage right now."

Harry busied himself pouring tea from the pot and didn't answer. He was determined not to lose his temper no matter what idiotic thing she said. It was an odd feeling to like someone so much and to be utterly exasperated at the same time.

Tonks stabbed at her eggs with her fork and went on, "I heard one of the investigators roughed him up before they brought him in, too. They don't normally do that, but I suppose it was when they found out he was a werewolf."

Harry didn't think now was the time to tell Tonks exactly what had happened with that. If there was ever going to be a time.

"Oh," he said without pretending sympathy, "What's going to happen to him, then?"

"You mean, what's going to happen to him instead of starting a new job and a new life? Instead of being self-sufficient and maybe even happy? Instead of having everything that Sirius would have wanted for him?"

"Tonks." He was gritting his teeth this time. He deliberately relaxed, reminding himself of the complete futility of debating with her.

She glared at him, as if daring him to disagree. When he didn't, she looked away, sighed, and took a gulp of tea. Setting the cup down with a decided _clink_ against the saucer, she said, "Well. Since you ask... Mad-Eye's calling in a few favors. Dropping a few names. The end result of which is that for the foreseeable future, Remus's home is that cage they put him in for the full moon. That is, unless he's gets even luckier, and they move him to the regular Ministry lock-up. I'm sure the other detainees would love having a werewolf for a cellmate."

"But they can't keep him forever," Harry pointed out. Hesitating, he added, "Unless he's guilty."

Tonks gaped at Harry as if he'd suddenly grown a second head. "Guilty? Of Emmeline's murder, d'you mean? You must be-- Why would he-- That's ridiculous! They haven't established time of death yet, but it was probably late that evening, when Remus was-- when I... Well, when I could alibi him."

She picked up her teacup again and turned it nervously in her hands. "Not that I'll be allowed to. Mad-Eye says that Dumbledore's going to arrange something. He doesn't want my name associated with either Emmeline or Remus. It puts the secrecy of the Order at too much risk. Some people already know that Mad-Eye's been friends with Emmeline since their Hogwarts days, and that he used to work with me in the Auror Office. And now that Remus has been found at Emmeline's... we don't want any more connections drawn between the lot of us."

Harry wasn't particularly concerned about how Lupin's alibi would be handled or not handled, except that it implied his impending release.

"If it turns out he isn't guilty, then they won't be able to keep holding him, will they?" he asked. A sudden thought occurred to him. "Tonks, you'd never let him come back here, would you?"

She ran a finger over the rim of her cup and didn't meet his eye. "Not with you here, Harry. But I expect Dumbledore will have you out of the flat as quick as may be with what's happened. I'd start packing if I were you."

"Er. Yeah," Harry mumbled, picturing his already fully packed trunk before returning to his original point. "But I mean, they could let Lupin go at any time. Couldn't they? It's not like Mad-Eye's actually calling the shots at the Ministry and can keep him locked up indefinitely."

Tonks snorted. "You'd be surprised. Never fear, Harry. Given his contacts, my guess is that Mad-Eye will have no trouble keeping Remus right where he is until Dumbledore comes up with a new Order assignment for him. An assignment that Mad-Eye approves of, I should have said, which means something that's far, far away from you."

"Me? Don't you mean far away from you?"

"You think this is about _me?_" Tonks raised her eyebrows. "That Mad-Eye or Dumbledore gives a toss about my screwed up relationship with Remus, or why I'm trying to help him, or anything that might honor Sirius's memory?"

She shook her head and huffed out a breath in disbelief. "This is about _you,_ Harry, the one we're all supposed to be protecting. And thanks to that incredibly skewed tale you told Mad-Eye--"

"I told the truth--"

"Harry, Remus was never a danger to you!" Tonks cut in vehemently. "And now Mad-Eye, and I've no doubt Dumbledore as well, are convinced that he's the next thing to a traitor or even a murderer because of that story you told."

"It was _not_ a story!" Harry dropped his fork onto his plate and pushed his chair back.

"He would never have touched you if you hadn't hit him first," Tonks countered hotly. "You could have killed him! And even after that he only Stupified you--"

"It wasn't only Stu--"

"And after I warned you--"

"I had to do it, Tonks," Harry protested, raising his voice. "He would've--"

"You have _no idea_ what he would have done," Tonks interrupted. She seemed to realize that she'd been shouting, because she went on in a tightly controlled voice, "It didn't occur to you, Harry, that maybe, just possibly, I might know Remus a bit better than you do? That I might have known what I was doing? He would never have touched you if you hadn't attacked him first."

"But he would've hurt you!"

"You're the one we're protecting, Harry," Tonks returned, spacing out her words with deliberate emphasis. "And I didn't ask for your help. Quite the opposite. Try to get that through your--"

"Don't talk to me like that. I'm not just some kid who--"

"I'm not talking to you like you're a kid. I'm talking to you like you're a fucking idiot. Which you were! You just made things worse, can't you see that? I know how to deal with him. If you'd only let me handle it for one more day--"

"But you _weren't_ handling it. Tonks, I care about you, I didn't want--"

There was the sudden sound of tapping at the window pane, and Harry turned to see a large tawny owl bearing a _Daily Prophet_. Tonks rose abruptly from her chair and unwarded the window, opening it to let in the owl. She took the newspaper, fished in her pocket for coins, and then watched the bird fly away.

Before she could close the window, another, smaller owl appeared. This one had a scroll of parchment attached to its leg. Tonks took it, absently handed the bird a crust of toast, and then secured the window as the second owl departed. She unrolled the paper and read, her brow furrowing.

When she was finished, she vanished the letter and offered Harry a tight smile. "Dumbledore. He'll be here soon. It's you he wants, but he asks if I'll 'be so kind as to stay' until he arrives."

She frowned and sat down again. Harry watched as she pushed her eggs around the plate moodily and then asked, "You don't want to see him?"

She gave a short laugh. "I'd have liked to avoid it for a while, yeah. Because he'll certainly want to read me any part of the riot act that Mad-Eye might have missed yesterday. Although I expect he won't do it in front of you, and at least he doesn't raise his voice."

She ate some eggs, took a bite of toast, and then mused, "You know... My mum and dad used to have a little spotted owl like that one. Did I ever tell you about the time Mum sent me a Howler--"

"Tonks. Please." This time he didn't keep the note exasperation out of his voice.

She grimaced apologetically. "Sorry. I- I just don't want to-- I _hate_ arguments, Harry, especially with you. Can we... Can't we forget about this?"

"No, we can't. At least, I don't think I can. There are things I need to get straight in my head about this. And if Professor Dumbledore will be here soon, wouldn't it be best to get some of it settled before he gets here?"

She gave him a look that emphatically answered, _No_.

He tried again. "How about... Listen, no arguments, alright? How about if you just tell me one thing that you want me to understand, and I tell you one thing. And... And we promise not to actually yell at each other this time?"

Tonks bit at her thumbnail and regarded him from under her lime-green fringe. Then she said, "Me, first?"

Harry nodded.

She looked down, dabbing thoughtfully at an egg stain on her t-shirt, another Weird Sisters--she seemed to have an inexhaustible stock of them.

With her head still bent, she said, "The mess everything is in now, it's because you wouldn't leave me to handle it, even though I asked. And also that you don't understand how much Sirius would've wanted someone to get Remus on some kind of- of even footing again..."

He began impatiently, "You've said that before, but Sirius would never have wanted--"

Tonks cut him off. "You haven't the slightest clue what Sirius would have wanted. Don't pretend you knew him."

She stopped when she saw Harry's expression. Reaching across the table, she lay her hand on top of his. "I'm sorry to say that, Harry, but it's-- you know it's true. You may have loved him, but I was the one who saw him almost every day for that year at Grimmauld Place. I was the one who spent all those evenings with Sirius and Remus. Because Remus was always there as well, you know. Or did you?"

She squeezed his hand and drew back. Harry didn't know what to say. It was probably true that Tonks had known Sirius better, but... Tonks poured more tea in his cup and pushed it into his hands. She waited until he'd sipped some before going on.

"Theirs was... a very complex friendship, Harry. They went way back, you know? Through a lot of shared history. Hogwarts. Remus's lycanthropy. Sirius's break with his family. Some problem the two of them had with Snape, I don't know the details. The first war. Lost friends and comrades. And then Azkaban, of course. Dependence and obligations on both sides. Guilt, too, I think, because both of them suspected the other of being a traitor at some point."

Harry shifted restlessly. "Is this... I don't mean to be rude, but is this getting us somewhere? Because even if I accept that you knew Sirius or Lupin better than I do--"

"What I'm trying to get across is this: It wasn't just Remus sponging off of Sirius. Not remotely. He helped Sirius through a hundred bad nights, spent hour upon hour sitting with him in that bloody kitchen listening to him talk about you, or James, or Lily--which must have been torture for Remus, I see now, considering his feelings about you--and trying his best to keep Sirius from drinking himself into an early grave. Don't assume you know what Sirius would have wanted for Remus."

With an effort, Harry pulled himself away from the image of his godfather and a large bottle of firewhisky. "But... Alright. But why does the person helping Lupin have to be you, Tonks?"

"Who else is going to? Do you think Remus has a lot of friends? Even in the Order, he's-- Well, most people are nervous around werewolves, even if they're not outright hostile. And anyway..." Tonks deliberated. "I don't know if I can make you see this, Harry, but I'll try."

She bit at her lips for a moment, and then asked, "Did you know that Remus saved Sirius's life once, in the first war?"

Harry shook his head, since Tonks seemed to expect it.

"Well, he did. And, of course, you managed to saved Sirius's life a few years ago yourself, didn't you? With the Dementors?"

Harry nodded this time. And waited. And wondered what she was getting at.

Finally, Tonks said, "But not me. You see, that's the point. I had the opportunity, but I... I didn't take it." In a hard voice, she added, "My aunt, Bellatrix. If I'd taken down that bitch at the Ministry when I had the chance--and I _did_ have the chance--everything would've been different, because then..."

_Then Sirius wouldn't be dead,_ Harry finished.

There it was, all laid out in a way that couldn't have been plainer: She had failed to save Sirius at the Department of Mysteries, so she planned to atone for it by saving Lupin instead. Because, as she'd said once before, the only thing Sirius had ever asked of her was to keep an eye on Remus for him.

In a way, it was completely mental. Or maybe not completely. The idea rested on its own shaky branch of logic. Possibly, Harry thought wryly, a branch of logic that only another person with a "saving people thing" would even recognize.

"Right," Harry heard himself say. "Um. Yeah. I see that." The word "but" was on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to keep it there.

Tonks shrugged briefly and stood, reaching to gather the breakfast dishes from the table. As she took them into the kitchen, she said without enthusiasm, "I suppose it's your turn now, Harry."

She dumped the plates with a careless clatter into the sink and put her hand on the tap, waiting. "You want to tell me something I need to understand?"

"I-- yeah, I do." Harry got up from the table and joined her in the kitchen. She had the water running and was shooting a spray of soapy bubbles onto the plates with her wand.

"Mine's more of a question." He picked up a tea towel for drying the plates and unfolded it. "I want to know what happened after Lupin knocked me out that night."

Tonks kept her attention on the dishes. After a moment, she said, "That wasn't part of the agreement, Harry."

"Well, I could be more specific, if that would help." Harry felt the anger he'd been suppressing since that night come slipping back. He made an effort to keep his voice calm as he continued. "What I'd really like to figure out is why I ended up unconscious on my floor while you and Lupin apparently enjoyed a comfortable night in bed. I mean, after all this lip service you've been paying to protecting me and all."

He hadn't meant to come out with quite so much hostility, but it seemed to get the meaning across.

Tonks narrowed her eyes in puzzlement. "You-- Harry, I'm sorry I couldn't check on you right away, if that's what you're getting at. It was-- well, a question of my not being able to deal with everything at once. You can see that, I'm sure. Remus was-- after what you did, how could you expect... But as soon as--" She blew out her breath in frustration. "I mean, it wasn't as if it was all night, not even remotely. But you must know that already."

Now it was Harry's turn to be confused. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Were you still unconscious?" she asked. "Is that it? I had the impression you were awake."

"What? Awake when?"

"When Remus got you into bed that night. I didn't-- Neither of us wanted anything to happen to you, Harry. He saw how worried I was." She gave an uncomfortable laugh. "Going spare, more like. I was-- We were both concerned. He wasn't angry anymore--he never stays angry for long, you know that--and when I wanted to go to you, he told me he'd do it. And I..."

She seemed at a loss for words for a moment. "Um. It seemed better to let him go ahead, as he wanted to. He offered, and I thought, 'Well, why risk antagonizing him again,' so..."

She trailed off as Harry was shaking his head.

"That isn't what happened, Tonks."

"You're angry that it was him and not me? Is that it? And he didn't stay all night. I told you already, I sent him away. Because even though he said you only had a bit of a bump, it was obvious that the arrangement with all three of us here wasn't going to--"

"Tonks. Stop." Harry thought about how to put this so that it would get through to her. "He didn't do that. He didn't put me in bed. He didn't do anything."

"You wouldn't remember if you were still unconscious. Obviously. But as you ended up in your bed, how else--"

"No. That isn't what I'm saying. I was on the floor _all night_. I woke up in the morning _on the floor_."

She stared at him, the plate in her hand forgotten as it dripped into the sink. She bit her lip nervously. "Did you-- You must've... fallen out of bed or... something?" she suggested in a barely audible voice.

"No."

Tonks suddenly flushed red to the roots of her hair. She looked down at the plate she was holding and finished rinsing it with deliberate thoroughness. Rinsed it several times over, in fact. And then, without warning, she lifted it and smashed it back into the sink, where it shattered with a earsplitting crash. She pivoted sharply so that her back was to Harry and took a few steps away. Her damp hands clenched spasmodically at her sides.

With a quick glance at the thousand shards in the sink, he took a step towards her. "Um. Tonks?"

She spun around to face him, and the expression on her face was hard to interpret. She might have been angry, or shocked, or embarrassed, or confused, or some combination. She wiped her hands unconsciously on her jeans.

"Harry, I--" She swallowed once. And then again. "I never... I'll--"

She looked away from his face, as if unable to meet his eyes any longer, her chest rising and falling under rapid, shallow breaths. Her gaze shifted to his neck, his shoulders, his chest, and then she focused on the hand holding the tea towel.

"What...?" Tonks moved forward as if automatically and reached out to take hold of his hand. Lifting it between them, she traced a finger over the still-raw scrape across his knuckles. Her eyebrows contracted.

"When did you--?" She closed her mouth abruptly and comprehension dawned on her face. Dropping his hand as if she'd been burnt by it, she took a pace backwards and put her hand to her mouth. Her face had gone white except for two spots of color on her cheekbones.

What she would have said or done, Harry didn't find out. At that moment, a sharp rap sounded from the door.

Tonks cursed under her breath and raked her fingers through her hair so that the short green spikes stuck out in all directions. With a quick look at Harry, she walked to the door and stood aside from it.

Drawing her wand, she called out, "Who is it?"

"It is I, Albus Dumbledore, who once gave you detention for imitating Professor Trelawney rather too accurately at the Yule Ball."

There was a pause. Tonks asked, "And do you want to set me a security question as well, sir?"

"I shall risk the danger, Nymphadora."

Tonks waved her wand in a comprehensive motion to remove the wards. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stood back to allow Dumbledore to enter. He stepped in with a sweep of purple robes and offered a courteous smile to both Tonks and Harry.

"Wotcher, Professor," Tonks said with slightly forced good cheer.

"Good morning, Nymphadora," Dumbledore replied, bowing. If he noticed anything amiss in her greeting, his usual courtly manners didn't betray it. "Thank you for permitting me to call on you at this early hour."

"And Harry," added Dumbledore, turning to him. "I am pleased to see that you are already up and about."

"Hello, sir," he said.

"I require a brief conference with Nymphadora, but after that I was hoping to prevail upon you to accompany me for a few hours before your appointment at the Ministry."

At the mention of the Ministry, Tonks shot Harry a questioning glance, but remained silent.

Dumbledore regarded Harry benevolently. "I understand you have had an eventful few days, Harry. But now, if you would be so kind, I desire to speak with Nymphadora privately."

The headmaster couldn't have anticipated the effect his words would have, but the idea of Harry being banished from the room resonated strongly with the other two people present. Tonks, in fact, appeared almost horror-stricken.

"Oh! No. No, Professor," Tonks interposed. "That's all right, I--" Her eyes flickered to Harry. "Harry can stay here."

Clearly puzzled, Dumbledore responded, "Of course. If you prefer him to remain--"

"No! I mean, I did want to speak with you privately as well. But... Would you mind coming into my room?" Tonks asked sheepishly. And then repeated, "Harry can stay here."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows a trifle at this presumably rare invitation accompany a young lady into her bedroom, but merely said, "As you wish, my dear."

He followed her out.

Through the closed door, Harry could just make out Tonks's agitated voice. She left only rare pauses for Dumbledore's responses, which Harry couldn't hear at all. And then, all at once, everything went silent. One of them had cast a Silencing charm, Harry decided. He wondered, smiling a little, whether Dumbledore would be able to get a word in edgewise, if he intended, as Tonks had predicted, to read her the riot act.

Although Harry appreciated Tonks's intentions in leaving him in the living room, he felt somewhat awkward waiting for them. He sat on the sofa and pulled his notes about Scrimgeour from his pocket, trying to read them over. Everything that had sounded so brilliant last night now filled him with doubt.

He wasn't given much time to worry over it, however. Within ten minutes, Dumbledore and Tonks were returning to the room: Dumbledore with his usual imperturbable calm, and Tonks looking anything but, judging from the tense set of her shoulders. Her hair stood up in even more finger-raked disarray than before.

The headmaster was saying, "... I don't think Alastor will object, if only because it would appeal to his sense of humor. You're sure it's what you want to do?"

Tonks glanced at Harry and then looked away again. In the brief moment when their eyes met, Harry again had the impression of a welter of emotions in her without knowing how to interpret them.

"It is," Tonks replied tersely. "Thanks, Professor. I need to be going now. I'm a bit late." She walked to the corner and reached for her boots.

Dumbledore turned and addressed himself to Harry. "I understand that Alastor has spoken at length with the Messrs Weasley at their emporium yesterday. And that it is your intention to live with them until school starts, beginning immediately."

Harry nodded, guiltily wondering if that was actually Tonks's gaze he felt boring into his back or if he were just imagining it. He really ought to have found the time to mention it to her.

"Are you packed and ready to depart?" Dumbledore asked him.

"Yes, sir."

The old man looked over Harry's shoulder to Tonks, saying, "Nymphadora, may I trouble you to arrange the transport of Harry's belongings to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes today?"

Tonks presumably nodded, because Dumbledore said, "Come along, then, Harry." He turned and led Harry to the door.

As the old man's hand touched the knob, Tonks called out, "Wait, Professor."

Harry turned to see Tonks coming towards them, her wand drawn. She approached Harry almost warily. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. She took his hand in hers, turned it over to reveal his injury. Tapping it lightly with her wand, she healed him. After a brief scrutiny at the new pink skin, she gave his hand a squeeze and let him go.

Lifting her hands on his shoulders, she gave him a focused look that seemed intended to convey everything she hadn't had a chance to say before Dumbledore arrived. Harry didn't need Legilimancy to see that part of it was a heartfelt apology.

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Goodbye, Harry. Take care of yourself."

* * *

_Coming next: Dumbledore, Slughorn, Scrimgeour, Robards, Moody, and a cast of thousands, many of them red shirts. I think._


End file.
